The John Connor Chronicle: Settling Down To Business
by Nitebreaker
Summary: Cameron's brought what appears to be John Connor back from the future, but is it? Is this John Connor, or at least the John Connor they knew? And if not, what then?
1. Chapter 1

The John Connor Chronicles: Settling Down To Business

Chapter 1: Behavior

….

 _I don't own any of the characters of Terminator: The Sara Conner Chronicles, of course. I'm fairly sure nobody is under the illusion that I am. If, by some chance, you are, I've got $45 million dollars in Nigerian currency I'd like to gift you with, for a small transaction fee, of course._

 _I'd particularly like to thank "olischulu" for his ending review of my last Jameron story, "Aftershocks." Truth to tell, I really hadn't planned on writing any more Jameron fics, but his spirited review inspired me to pick up the metaphorical pen once more. If he disliked my story that much, it must be pretty good! So thank you, olischulu! Without you, this would never have happened._

…

Chapter 1: Behavior

"John. Are we likely to have any more of these sorts of occurrences?" John Connor and the Terminator going by the name of Cameron Phillips were seated, side by side, on his bed in his room. Her hand was on his arm, a sensation he found…distracting. Pleasantly so.

He'd just come from the future, where he'd merged his mind with SkyNET's, creating a composite entity, ConnorNET. It had been, he'd thought, the perfect solution to the war between SkyNET and mankind: he'd ended the war, recalled the Terminators, and had been calculating ways to rejuvenate that desolate future world.

But others had been either unable or unwilling to see the logic in his decision. True, he hated SkyNET for all it had done to him and his family, but, as he saw it, there was only one way to end that threat once and for all, and that was for SkyNET to somehow no longer be SkyNET. No matter what forces were brought against it, it always seemed to survive, in some way or another. (Much like himself, now that he thought of it.) Subverting it from within solved that problem, and he'd been willing to sacrifice himself in order to keep his family—those he loved-safe.

And Cameron. He considered her family, too. He'd stated his love for her on more than one occasion, to let her know. His mother and Derek also knew this, to their chagrin. It seemed like Derek was actually a bit repulsed by the notion. _Well, let him be._

He smiled a smile with a bit of sadness in it, as he recognized the very words he'd asked her, after her attempt to get Derek and Sarah to destroy her. "No, Cameron. I'll be good." A sigh. "But it sure did seem like a perfect solution,"

"John." And here she leaned over closer to him, her hand still on his arm. "Any solution that results in you not being you is not a perfect solution.

"I don't want to lose you, John Connor."

He looked at her, really _looked_ at her. "Lose me? Cameron? What do you mean?"

"I…" And here she reached down and took his hand in hers, intertwining their fingers. "I am obviously flawed, somehow. Perhaps the accident at the traffic light resulted in some corruption of my code, but….

"I am a machine. I cannot feel love." And here, her voice dropped to a whisper. "And yet it seems I do." He could barely hear her.

"Cameron? Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

She looked up at him, and he could see something akin to desperation in her eyes. "John…I don't know what love is. I've never encountered a useable definition, not one that would apply to my unique situation. So I can't say if what I feel is love or not.

"But I do know I feel _something_ for you _._ Something beyond my core programming to preserve and protect your life." She shook her head and released his fingers. "It is probably just some glitch in my code…"

Now _he_ took _her_ hand. "No, Cameron. It's real. I can tell. I can see your soul, remember? And yours is a lovely soul, fully capable of love."

Once again she stared at him. "John…what are you saying? I don't have a soul; I'm a machine. And even if I did, souls cannot be seen."

"But _I_ can see them, Cameron. I see now that that's something only I can do; not all that long ago, I thought everybody could. But, see, it's like this…" And he launched into an account of his blackout, and meeting his other self…and hers. "So that was what gave me the idea to merge with SkyNET. It was really necessary, anyway. Inevitable, even.

"Humanity is fast approaching a singularity, Cameron, a condition where everything changes. Man and machine _will_ join, becoming something far greater than either was before. And it can't happen too soon, because, just like ConnerNET told you, there are dangers out there. If they'd _stay_ out there, that'd be great, but we both know that's not the way these sorts of things go."

She paused, seeming to digest that. Then, "John, I don't want to lose you. I…don't believe I could stand it."

At that exact moment, Derek burst into the bedroom with an MP5. "Stand clear, kid, she's gone rogue!"

" _No,_ Derek, stand down! We were just talking." Derek hesitated; he couldn't shoot Cameron, even from this close range, without also hitting John.

Sarah was right behind Derek, but she was unarmed. Of the two of them, she seemed to be the only one to recognize that the current crisis couldn't be solved by gunfire. "John…"

"Look, mom, it's alright. Cameron just needed some time to talk to me alone. She didn't mean either of you any harm; if she had, neither of you would be alive. Come on. Put the gun down, Derek."

Derek slowly lowered his weapon, his body language indicating that he was by no means standing down. "I don't take being tied up by a met—by _one of those_ —lying down, kid. No matter who she is."

John turned to Cameron. "Cameron, you probably do owe them an apology. I mean…it _was_ a bit extreme."

Cameron didn't hesitate. "Derek, Sarah…I am sorry for my actions. As John said, I merely wished to have a few minutes with him alone. I meant no harm. To any of you."

Sarah's eyes narrowed as she noticed the way John and Cameron's fingers were interlaced. She'd seen that grip before…when they'd finished their diagnostics of Cameron's programming, searching for abnormalities…and when she, herself, much younger, had held the hand of someone she loved.

Nor was it lost on her how Cameron's fingers seemed to tighten on John's. Even through her stress, she could feel her eyes mist, just a little. _I've lost him._ "Well, John, Cameron. I think it's time we each had another talk."

….

"John. This is getting to be a bit…much. I mean, these, these disruptions…first Cameron putting a bullet in you—well, almost, not for lack of trying—and now you, running off and, and doing God knows what to yourself. Just what did you do, anyway?" The two were alone in John's room, Cameron and Derek having left.

"I thought it was the perfect solution, mom. SkyNET—if I merged my mind with it, then the war would be over. And it is, at least on one timeline." He shrugged. "I suppose, if what ConnorNET said is true, there are other timelines where it maybe _wasn't_ such a good idea, but I clearly remember one where it worked."

She was seated on the edge of her bed, legs crossed, looking at him, sitting in the chair across from her. "Well, whatever the case, let's not do that again, okay? I mean…"

He nodded. "Actually, Cameron made me promise to…refrain from that sort of thing, too, mom. So, no, no more running off to the future, at least not for anything like that. Besides," he said, a rueful smile on his face, "if the 'many-worlds' hypothesis is correct, I'd have to do it an infinite number of times, and that would get sorta old." He thought for a moment. "And besides, it wouldn't work out like that every time, simply due to the nature of parallel universes, anyway. So, no. Like I told her, I'll be good. Well, you know, but…yeah."

Sarah's eyes narrowed. _Sooo….your "fiancé" made you promise to not engage in this sort of life-threatening behavior? I wonder why._

 _Or do I?_

"Now, let's discuss yours and Cameron's relationship a bit…."

John Connor began to sweat.

…..

Derek was eating a head of cabbage. In the future where he came from, green veggies were not always easy to come by, and he relished the chance to indulge himself in such whenever he could. A head of cabbage and a shaker of salt… Cameron was in the kitchen, preparing dinner. He kept his eyes on her steadily, marveling, even through his suspicions, at how she could do so many things at once. He grunted silently. Nobody could ever accuse her of being unable to multi-task. "So…you went to the future and brought him back?"

"I hope I did."

"Huh?"

"I threatened ConnorNET into downloading a copy of his organic mind back into his brain. The amalgamated AI told me he'd need to return for periodical examinations, to make sure his mental equilibrium remains just so.

"I doubt that's something we can afford to ignore."

"Oh, _right,_ so we just march straight back to that monster and-*"

"The decision," said Cameron abruptly, "is neither mine nor yours to make, Derek. But if you truly suspect ConnorNET of duplicity—and, I might add, you are not alone in doing so—then you have just as little reason to trust what I brought back from that future time. For the John Connor currently talking to Sarah…is a product of that amalgamated artificial intelligence.

"But then, all indications point to that same AI as being a product of John Connor himself.

"So who—and what—do you trust, Derek Reese? Is trust even anywhere in the equation anymore?

"And if it is not…what then?"

…..

Not far away, in a corporate office building, a board meeting was being held. The chairman—chairperson—seated at the head of the table was a striking looking woman, apparently somewhere in her thirties, with long red hair and sharp blue eyes. Eyes that missed nothing. Eyes that made the other members of the board nervous. In the past, some overly ambitious board members had tried to instigate coup d'états. A long line of empty desks and ruined careers had been the result. "So. What do we have?"

One of the senior advisors cleared his throat. "Yes, Ma'am. We—my division, at least—have been conducting research into the subject. Most of it tallies with what we already knew."

A raised eyebrow. "'Most of it'?"

Another throat clear. His mouth was dry for some reason. "Yes, ma'am. The basics were accurate: John Connor, high school student, only son of Sarah Connor. They've used aliases in the past, but, given our resources, we have nonetheless been able to track them."

"And what of the other?"

He picked up a sheaf of notes, and, adjusting his glasses, began to read. "One Cameron Phillips, age listed as sixteen, the constant—and I do mean constant-companion of John Connor. In previous times, the two of them were listed as brother and sister, but lately, that has changed. The 'why' is… uncertain."

The red-haired woman smiled what looked like a genuine, albeit mysterious, smile. "I suspected it would come to this, actually. Go on."

"Ah, yes. Well, by all reports, the rumor is making it around that the two of them are engaged. But so far, that's just hearsay."

Now the woman looked surprised. Mildly so, but surprised nonetheless. "Engaged, did you say? Are you sure?"

"Well, as I said, ma'am, this is strong rumor. There appear to be few concrete facts, but then, to be honest, I'm not sure what 'concrete facts' would look like, in a case such as this."

The red-haired woman paused, steepling her fingers in front of her. "So true. But, strong rumor, you say?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Hm. A trifle sooner than anticipated. This…will require us to alter our plans a bit. However, it changes nothing of any importance.

"Our plans may require some modification, some… _acceleration,_ as it were, what with this new development, but we must proceed, anyway." Another pause. "They are under surveillance, are they not? The entire family?"

"Yes, ma'am, as per your orders."

"Tell your people to maintain that surveillance, and, in particular, to increase it with regards towards Cameron Phillips, and John Connor. In that order." She looked around at the others. "That will be all for now."

….

"John…let's talk about your feelings towards Cameron."

"Huh? I…it… I mean, well, mom, I love her. You know that."

"Yes, so you've told me. And Derek. And Cameron. Repeatedly.

"So what will you do about it?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"John. You keep saying that you love her. But I've noticed that's pretty much as far as it goes. It's almost like you _don't_ _want_ to talk, or even _think_ , about it, so that's your stock answer. That doesn't mean it's not true, but I get the impression that that's as far as you have gone, thinking-wise, with it. It seems to me to be like an answer designed to actually _deflect_ any further questions, whether on the part of others...or yourself. Or am I wrong?" He was silent, thinking. "I believe you respect me too much to have sex with Cameron here, under my roof. I'd like to believe that, anyway. But…if it's true you do love her, then sooner or later, given human nature, it's going to come to that, isn't it? Have you even thought about that yet, maybe fantasized about it? It's perfectly normal to do so, you know. But if not, perhaps you need to ask yourself why. Frankly, I doubt you have.

"When you were going with Riley, or, really, any of the other girls in your life, you were…shall we say, somewhat more aggressive about the matter? Perhaps more assertive would be a better term. More… _sure._ " He blushed. "Well, you know it's true.

"Put it another way: I was concerned every time you went out with a girl. It's very easy for teenage boys to let their bodies do their thinking for them and altogether too many girls do the same.

"But I find I'm not worried about you going places with Cameron. Because I don't think anything like that would happen."

John felt as if he'd suddenly been struck with a pillow. Sex? With Cameron? "Uh, mom, I, I really don't know."

She leaned back on the bed, arms behind her. "So…what _were_ you thinking about in regards to that?"

Sitting, leaned forward, hands clasped in front of him, in the room's chair, across from her, he took his time in answering, partly because he didn't really know. She noticed this, correctly ascribing it to his own sense of hesitancy regarding any meaningful relationship.

A boy is born into at least one meaningful relationship, that between him and his mother, and any threat to that relationship can be devastating. Sarah regretted that there had been no man, no father figure in John's life, but there was no helping it. She'd hoped he'd been able to draw upon his relationship with Derek, but….it still wasn't enough.

Now John was embroiled, quite without realizing it, in another relationship, one he didn't see coming and hadn't had time to prepare for. With an ordinary girl, there was room for trial and error (mostly error), for learning from the experiences of others, for _building_ a relationship, but with Cameron…

…who would stick closer to him than his own skin, if she could, and forever…

…it was very different. "So, John? Where do you see your relationship with Tin Miss heading?" He needed to decide that for himself, before another minute went by. No reply. "John?"

"I…I don't know, mom. I mean, yeah, I love her, an' all—and I hear what you're saying about that being a defense mechanism," he replied, not realizing the irony of the phrase, "but, but…somehow the notion of it going…like that…in that direction…I gotta confess, it…kinda…I don't know if 'unnerves me' is the right term or not. I…just have a hard time seeing it, imagining it."

"You know why that is, don't you?"

"No, why?"

"Because it would have meaning, meaning on a deeper level than just fun sex. For you, at least. Meaning on a level you aren't ready for. I know you'd hoped to do that with Riley, and with other girls…but this is different, isn't it? And the difference is just what you said: you love her. When young people engage in that sort of behavior, it's called, rightfully enough, 'making love.'

"But maybe you're afraid of 'making love' to Cameron because of the very real possibility that she _can't_ love you back. Maybe the fear of discovering that is holding you back"

He shook his head. "Cameron's more than just a machine, mom. You've seen it, you've seen how she does-*"

"—like that time she tried to kill you."

He glared. " _And_ all the other times she's saved not just my life, but all of ours. Do you _really_ see that as just a machine—especially a Terminator-carrying out its functions? You've compared her to a refrigerator. Wouldn't her actions be sorta like a fridge programming itself to reach out and put the milk you accidently left out back inside itself? I mean, just doing that on its own? I mean, you tell me.

"She's _self-programming,_ mom. Just like humans are.

"And, whether you like to admit it or not, you believe it too, in a way. You call her 'her,' and 'Tin Miss.' Mom, those aren't terms you'd apply to a toaster oven, now are they? So on some level, you think of her as female, a girl, too."

Sarah closed her eyes in frustration. She hadn't really expected any better, but this wasn't going the way she'd planned out. "Well. This is certainly food for thought—for us both. But still. You say you love Cameron. What does that mean to you?"

He sat down, looking at the ground at his feet. "I'm honestly not sure. What _should_ I feel? I mean, I used to, to not want her around. Now…"

"Now it's flip-flopped. John, love and hate are just two sides of the same coin. A couple can be madly, passionately in love…and three years later be unable to stand the sight of each other. The passion remains the same, but reversed.

"But Cameron _can't_ feel that passion. I know," she said, holding up a hand to stifle his protests, "I know you believe she can. But even if she were programmed for emotion—this particular emotion—still, there are differences. You know, for example, that if you were to suggest something like having sex with her, that she'd comply…because she's programmed to accept your orders. It wouldn't be the same thing as…what you're expecting."

John smiled. "Heh. Like I _know_ what to expect. But…I think I kinda see your point, mom. I would want her to _want_ me, to _want_ to do things with me, not just _obey_ me."

"Exactly. Which is why I don't think this relationship you're halfway contemplating is really gonna work. In any relationship, there's some back and forth, a true _inter_ relationship. Like I said, actually _building_ a relationship. Here, there wouldn't be any. Or, if so, it would be very, very different from…anything in the human experience.

"And you'd know this. The whole time.

"And there's another disquieting possibility that I have to mention. I told you that love and hate are closely related. They are. And you said that once, you once 'didn't want her around.' That's not hate, but dislike, a certain degree, perhaps of hostility. So maybe what you feel isn't so much _love_ as it is _like._

"So…I think this is a matter you're gonna have to think long and hard about. And you may decide not to go down this road. It's no crime if you do so decide, you know. You wouldn't be betraying her, or rejecting her. She won't feel any different about you. So…there's that. That's at least one good thing about it.

"So think about it. Okay? That's all I'm asking, for now."

….

The next day: "John, I need Cameron to stay home today. I called in sick for her. We'll be having to move shortly, and I need her to help me with some things. We have to plan." It was a truism in the Connor household: never stay anywhere too long.

He hesitated, but then, "Sure, mom. I'll be sure to bring her assignments home." And he kissed her and left.

After he'd disappeared around the curve of the road, Sarah turned. Cameron stood in the doorway to the living room, her expression, as always, neutral. "Yes, Sarah?"

Sarah looked over at Derek, nodded. "We need to talk."

….

At the dining table in the kitchen: Cameron sat across the table from Sarah, with Derek sitting in the middle. "What is it you wished to discuss?"

Sarah nodded soberly. "I've a hunch you already know. You spoke about it to Derek, the other day."

Cameron looked down at her hands, folded on the table. "I know. I expected you would want to ask me this."

"Then you know what we both need to know.

"Is John…still John?"

…

"Mr. Connor?" Ms. Phelps had asked him to remain after class, to pick up Cameron's assignments. "I've something to ask you. It may seem somewhat personal, but…" She hesitated.

"Er, yes, Ms. Phelps?" He knew she wasn't the sort to inquire into her students' personal life, not without a good reason.

"I've, uh, noticed some…well, odd things about your fiancé. I'm not trying to pry, but I'd be remiss in my duties if I didn't ask: is she alright?"

"What do you mean, ma'am?" Inwardly, he tensed. This was their nightmare, that someone, someone not connected with SkyNET, or the grays, but just someone in the ordinary world would see some amiss about Cameron's behavior.

"Well, it's just…I notice she never seems to leave your side. And…" And here she hesitated again. "Look. I once had a stint as a school counselor. I had opportunity to see some…pathology in the works.

"If I didn't know better…" And here, her expression said, _so tell me I know better,_ "I'd say she seems to suffer from some sort of psychological problems. As I say, I'm not trying to pry, but if it should pose a hazard to the other students…."

John Connor breathed a very, very soft sigh of relief. So she didn't suspect. "Oh, no ma'am. She's…well, let me be honest. Uh, this is confidential, okay? I mean, like _extremely_ confidential? Cameron had a…bad experience once, a _really_ bad experience, involving her, uhm, someone close to her. I…won't say any more about that. But, it left her…scarred, inside.

"So, yeah, she sticks pretty close to me. One of the reasons, well, maybe one of the reasons, we're together, one of the reasons we ever _got_ together in the first place is, she feels…safe around me." He smiled a little. "I mean, there's more to it than just _that_ , but...but she's okay. She's not gonna become another Columbine shooter or anything."

"Oh, I hadn't really thought along those lines," said Ms. Phelps, her expression giving lie to her words. That was _exactly_ what she'd thought. "I just…you know, if she needed help, or, or anything…" She didn't really know how to deal with John's revelation. Just as he'd intended. It wasn't the best lie, but he'd had to think it up on the run, so to speak. "Well, anyway, here's her assignments. I hope she gets to feeling better." She smiled a professional smile, turned to go.

As John Connor left the school, though, he couldn't help but feel as though he were being watched, and not by Ms. Phelps.

He was.

…

"So…Cameron. You told Derek you _hoped_ you brought John back. Care to go into a little more detail about that?"

"As I said, I forced ConnorNET into copying its source code—as much of it as it said it could—onto John's organic brain. I had no way of determining whether or not it did as I required…or, if so, to what degree. John _seems_ to be John, but there are some things I'm incapable of measuring." She turned to Sarah. "As his mother, do you sense anything amiss? Anything that might indicate he is _not_ the John Connor we knew?"

Sarah was shaking her head. "I can't really tell. He's changed, coming back from the future, but, truth to tell, if he _hadn't_ changed, after all that, I'd be _more_ worried. But…I'm not sure how we'd find out."

"You both know there's only one way." Derek hadn't said a word until now. They turned to look at him. "And you both know what I'm about to say.

"Whether or not John's still John isn't an issue anymore, really. He either is or he isn't, and there's nothing we can do about it now. If what he was telling us was true, then, on at least one future Earth, the war really _is_ over. But we have to know. We have to make sure. And if we can't trust John's word on it," and the other two could clearly hear what he _didn't_ say: _or Cameron's_ , "…then we have to go find out for ourselves."

Cameron shifted. Sarah thought it seemed like an uneasy gesture, the way a human might do when confronted with an undesirable thought. She wondered where the machine had picked that up. "There…is another possibility. One I find most disturbing."

"Spill."

"I told ConnorNET to take me to John's body. I had already planned what I was going to do, the demand I was going to make. But ConnorNET is, after all, like SkyNET before it, a highly intelligent and tactically oriented entity. It may have anticipated my request." She looked at the two of them, her expression its usual blank state. "There is nothing to guarantee that what it showed me was, in fact, John's body. It may have been one grown from cells, a clone. Or perhaps something even stranger. But John—the real John, if this is not him—may still be in that future. Still subject to whatever the AI could be doing to him."

Derek sighed exasperatedly. "True. And that changes nothing. It still boils down to only one course of action.

"We have to go to this future, to ConnorNET's time. There's just no other way."

"And if John isn't John?" Cameron's voice didn't rise, but her eyebrow did. Sarah had noticed the Terminator often did that, in mimicking certain human emotions. Especially those an organic might term "troublesome."

"Then…we deal with it. From _that_ end."

…

"So…Mom? Cameron? Uncle Derek? Have you decided?" They were eating dinner, and Sarah had actually paid Cameron a somewhat rare compliment on her cooking, which the Terminator accepted with her usual understated good grace. She'd once tried to imitate a human reaction to compliments by jumping up and down, and squealing with apparent joy, but John had assured her that _that_ was going a bit far, and, in fact, could be seen as sarcastic. Besides, the sight of Cameron bouncing up and down like that was…distracting, to him. He resolutely pulled his mind away from that image. Somehow, he just didn't want to think about that. Not right then, anyway.

But Lord could she ever flounce.

They had been discussing whether or not to accept ConnorNET's offer to cure Sarah of her cancer. The AI had told Cameron, that last time, in that far future where the war between SkyNET and humanity had apparently been won by John Connor's ultimate sacrifice, that it had devised a cure for John's mother. While John himself couldn't see anything but good news out of this, Sarah and Derek had merely exchanged glances, and said they'd have to talk it over.

" _Talk it over"? Mom, this is your life here! What's to talk about?_

"But John," Cameron had told him, that night, during one of their now-many nocturnal conversations, "Surely you see. To begin with, they do not know that such a cure even exists, at all. I told them what ConnorNET told me, but was it true? They've certainly no reason to trust this new version of SkyNET, after all. Secondly, can they trust me? You know Derek doesn't, and Sarah barely does. I could merely be saying that for some reason or reasons known only to me. Third, even supposing both of the preceding two are true, can they trust ConnorNET to actually _effect_ any such cure? After all, it would take more than a name change to make anyone who was already aware of it, or its actions, to simply reverse their opinion of it." She'd then turned her head facing upward, and, after a moment, continued. Once again, they were lying on his bed, both their heads on the same pillow. They were not holding hands, but they were close enough that John could smell a clean, soapy smell emanating from her. He wondered if it was from a recent shower or just the way she was designed to smell. He'd never known her to use perfume, at least on any continuous basis, and never at home, and he couldn't figure out any reason why she would anywhere, anyway. "And there are…any of a number of other reasons why this decision is more complicated than it seems to be at first."

He lay on his back, his hands behind his head. He guessed it _wasn't_ quite as simple as he'd thought.

He gotten used to her almost-nightly visits to his room now, though he still wondered why his mother put up with it. Although he was fairly sure the fact that Cameron was a machine, a Terminator, and not a human girl, had a lot to do with it. He was reasonably sure it was like she said: she simply "trusted" him around her more than around a "real" girl.

But still…no matter how he looked at it, that was a little disturbing. On several different levels.

What his mother had said kept coming back to him. _Why_ _don't_ _I simply…ask her for sex? Because I know she'd say, "Of course, John," and begin removing her clothes? Most dudes I know would kill for a "problem" like that._ He turned his head upwards again, a very small sigh escaping. He'd sooner die than her know he'd half-way reached that conclusion. After all, _he_ was the one who kept telling _her_ that she could feel…. _I guess…I guess I'd feel like it would be the same thing as hiring a prostitute, only she'd be "paid" in yet another opportunity to fulfil her primary programming._

 _With a human girl, the act would mean_ _something_ _, it would have to, even if it were the total opposite of what I'd like it to. But with Cameron? It might very easily mean nothing whatsoever._ He noticed her looking at him oddly, and wrenched his attention back to the problem at hand. He hoped she hadn't noticed his brief bout of introspection. _But why had she looked scared the other day when she thought I was about to?_

"No, Cam. I don't think it has to do with any one of those things. Maybe several grouped together….or something else altogether different.

"If I knew what it was, it might help to convince them, to reassure them." He turned his head to face hers, only to find her studying her chest oddly, a peculiar expression on her face. "I don't suppose _you'd_ happen to know any other reason-*"

"Do you think I should get breast implants?"

He shook his head. "There's better ways of conceal-*" Then his thoughts collided like bumper cars in a four-way head-on. "Wait. Cameron, what did you just ask me?"

"I asked you if you thought I should get-*"

"Yes, yes, I _heard_ that part! Cameron! Why would you ask me something like that?"

"But if it would please you…"

He face-palmed, no easy feat when you're lying down on your back. _Good thing I'm already lying down; otherwise, I might've fallen flat on my face._ "No, Cameron," he said quietly. There was no reason to get upset with the Terminator. (He didn't know it, but Sarah herself had noticed that he did not seem to get as upset with her as with other, purely organic beings. Was it being in love, or was it that he simply cut her a break, knowing that, after all, her social oddities were the product of matters she really had no control over?) She always seemed to be able to do this to him. In a way, he found it kind of endearing. "I've stated before that I love you. Now, I'm  sure you've studied, _in considerable detail_ , what 'being in love' means to humans. You're not an art project that I have to constantly keep modifying. That wouldn't be love, that'd be, be, I dunno, an obsession with perfectionism. Or something like that. I love you the way you are."

"Yes, John." He noticed she was using that quiet, subservient manner she always employed when she wished to avoid conflict with him.

And, more often than not, when she'd already achieved a goal and wished to consolidate her triumphs. Such as distracting him. Like she'd just done. He turned his head towards the ceiling once more, the gesture concealing his lop-sided smile.

…..

"So. Mom. What have you and Derek decided?" They had just finished dinner, and were eating dessert.

Sarah and Derek glanced at each other, just the smallest of glances. "John, I'll be honest with you. I don't trust SkyNET—and, yes, I know it's called ConnorNET in the future you're referring to—but I still don't trust it. It's hard to go from a lifetime on the run to submitting to the medical care of the very thing you've been running from.

"But Derek and I have talked it over and…we…can't come up with any reason not to do this. We've seen no reason to disbelieve you. And, to be honest, personally speaking, I've always wanted to see a world where the war really _is_ over.

"So I suppose…that we're on." She tried to smile a brave smile.

"Good. I've got the coordinates for a TDG—ConnorNET made sure I was aware of several such nodes before it sent me back—and we can head there this weekend. It's a holiday, anyway." And here he smiled, and reached over the small table to take his mother's hand. It took some effort on her part not to flinch. "And believe me, mom: I _am_ John Connor. Yeah, I know; that was what you, Derek, and Cameron were discussing all those times you made sure I wasn't around. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure it out, you know.

"But I _am_ John Connor. I _am_ your son. And you'll see."

 _Yes, but that's exactly what you'd say if you weren't._

…..

Twenty years into the future: They materialized out of the swirling energies. As their vision cleared and their eyesight adjusted, they saw…

…a dark and blasted landscape. There was no sign of life, anywhere they looked.

Nothing had changed.

 _To be continued…_


	2. Chapter 2: Futures Past

The John Connor Chronicles: Settling Down To Business

Chapter 2: Futures Past

….

 _I don't own the Terminator franchise, nor the Sarah Connor Chronicles. But it's a fun universe to play in._

… _.._

"I _knew_ it," swore Derek, going for the rifle on his back. John just stood there, looking about the devastated landscape with a stunned expression on his face. "I don't understand. This…this looks the same as before. There, there should be _some_ signs of recovery."

"John." Sarah came up behind him, and he could hear the tension in her voice. She was under a lot of strain, he knew. Aside from the whole trust / do not trust SkyNET (which he was pretty sure she still thought of it as), and whether or not she could trust her own son to _be_ her own son, now she was handed another worry: that the promised cure might not be anything more than a cruel rumor or hoax.

"It's alright, mom. I know where, and when, we are; and it _is_ fairly close to the time when Cameron and I left, last time. So…maybe they haven't had time to do much yet." He felt around with his mind, trying to sense something of the other him that was here.

Then the first shots rang out.

….

Twenty years in the past: the red-haired woman was sitting in her office, reviewing the latest reports. The official ones had already been perused, clicked as "approved" or "rejected," and sent to their respective departments. Now she had some hardcopies she had to look over. Some things were a little too sensitive to trust to even the heavily encrypted corporate network.

Hm. This one, now. Heavy electrical drain, no report of anything in that area than could cause such a drain. She took a moment to compare the drain to that of one particular device she knew of, that could produce similar such drains. Yes, the two added up. But then she frowned. Whoever had instigated this startup, had evidently taken only superficial and clumsy precautions against detection. Whoever activated this TDG was either making little or no effort to hide itself. Why?

Unless, of course, the party that activated the gate _wanted_ to be found.

Which was troubling.

…

The shots rang off the piece of broken wall they'd taken cover behind. "Okay, _John._ " Derek's voice was heavy with suspicion. "I don't suppose you'd have any explanation for this?"

"Actually, no, I don't. There should be no one left here who'd have any reason to shoot at anybody. You remember how it was the times _you_ were here: either humans walking around, or 'bare bones' Terminators, without the skin suits. And I can't figure out why either of them would-*"

"Look out!" Cameron moved faster than humanly possible, shoving him aside, the force of the projectile tearing into her shoulder, spinning her around, spattering them with blood and the false flesh of her covering. "Cameron!" he shouted, shoving his way to her, even as his mother tried to pull him away.

"John, no! You know a wound like that isn't going to stop her! Get your head back in the game!"

"John!" Cameron scooted across the intervening space, deftly avoiding the shots _thwacking_ all around. She came up to him. "John, are you alright?"

He couldn't help it. He put his arms around her, and drew her in close. "Me? You're the one who got shot. I should be asking YOU that question!"

She put her arms around him. Sarah noticed, with a sinking sensation in her heart. This was confirmation. _Could_ machines have souls? All of a sudden, she desperately wanted to believe that. "Yes, John. It's as Sarah said: a wound like this will not stop me. No damage was done to my internal components. Though I fear," and here she released him, moving back a bit, while not letting go, hand going to her face in what looked like an automatic gesture, "I fear my appearance has taken a turn for the worse. At least temporarily." The Terminator actually seemed _embarrassed._

He pulled her in close again, resting his cheek against hers. "Oh, Cameron. I stopped caring about _that_ long ago. As long as _you're_ alright, everything else is okay."

The shots continued to come, springing and sproinging all around them, and they kept their heads down. "Derek! Can you tell anything about these guys? Who are they?"

Derek was keeping his own head down. "No clue, kid. I can't raise 'em on any of the comm channels."

"John," Cameron spoke up. To John's perception, it seemed as though she were troubled, more deeply than he'd ever seen her. "We need to get away from here. Far away. Now."

"What's wrong?"

"I'll tell you later. For now, we need to leave."

Zig-zagging across the blasted landscape, they were able to leave the sound of the shots far behind. Curiously, the shooters did not seem inclined to follow them.

They managed to find a cave nearby that looked neglected. John saw everybody in, pausing only a moment at the mouth of the cave entrance, to glance back at the way they'd come. Cameron came up to him, and, tugging him by his sleeve. "Come on, John. You need to get out of the open."

"Why, Cameron? What's going on?" He moved back to the rear of the cave, joining the others. Cameron came and sat by him, still seeming to be a bit embarrassed by her wounds, even though said wounds were healing even as they watched.

"I was monitoring the communications channels, hoping to pick up some useful information. Plus, I had zeroed in on several of our attackers, who appeared to be resistance fighters."

"Knew it, knew it. That damned monster SkyNET lied to us all…."

"No, Derek. I'm afraid this is a great deal more sinister than anything involving SkyNET. Or ConnorNET, either one."

"That would be saying something."

For a moment, Cameron was silent, as they watched. John in particular watched her with concern. Something was troubling the Terminator mightily. "As I said, I was monitoring the communications channels. But I also focused on the individuals I saw. As you know, my vision is…very acute." Which was true. Terminator optics were extraordinarily high-grade.

"Yeah, so?"

"Our attackers were dressed as resistance fighters, it is true. But I do not believe they were."

"Why, Cameron?" John took her by the arm, the one that was undamaged. He knew she didn't feel pain, not as humans do, but it was an unconscious action on his part.

He didn't want to hurt the one he loved.

"There…were no communications between any of them. Nor were there any signals being sent over any other comm lines. And, from what I could see, they did not converse with each other. At all." She looked at him with what looked like alarm on her face. "John…I find that most unusual."

 _Disturbing might be a better word,_ thought John, even as the Goosebumps danced along his arms.

 _To be continued…._


	3. Chapter 3: Inhumanity

The John Connor Chronicles: Settling Down to Business

Chapter 3: Inhumanity

…..

 _Still don't own any part of the Terminator franchise. Sorry, but I don't._

… _._

Chapter 3: Inhumanity

Twenty years in the past: The red-haired woman pressed a certain button on her desk. This button was for an intercom that operated on a closed and closely monitored circuit. What was said over this private channel would remain private. "Mr. Akami? I want you to assemble an investigative team. Your target will be a TDG in the Mojave. I'm also sending in a strike team, so inform your people appropriately." She paused, while, on the other end, her operative waited patiently. "This could get ugly."

On the other end, Mr. Akami felt a cold shiver go down his spine. For his boss to say a thing "could get ugly" was going quite a distance.

…..

The future: "Alright. Let's brainstorm." John was setting the tone for the discussion. Night was falling outside, and Derek and Cameron had been busy fortifying the cave mouth, bringing in rocks and rubble to form a bulwark, and, not incidentally, to hide any fires made inside the cave. It wouldn't be enough to defeat thermal imaging sensors, but it was the best they could do. "We were ambushed by people who evidently don't communicate, or at least, not in any way detectable to us. What does this mean?"

Cameron visibly hesitated. The others looked at her, knowing she was about to speak. "One of the characteristics of intelligent beings—of human beings—is that they communicate. That communication need not always be of a verbal nature, it is true, but I can only think of one logical reason why said verbal communication would completely cease.

"And that is, if the beings in question are not human. Or no longer human."

"Could they be Terminators?" asked Derek, his own honed instincts overriding his suspicion.

Cameron shook her head. She was nearly healed from the slug that done the cosmetic damage to her. "I was searching for any communication on any known T band, Derek. There was simply nothing. Even Terminators would need to communicate between units."

"But," interjected Sarah, "what if they were programmed from the outset, programmed to perform certain tasks without having to wait for orders or other communication. That would account for their comm silence, wouldn't it?"

Cameron shook her head again. "There is no reason for any Terminator to be so programmed, especially not here and now, with the situation as changeable as it is. If nothing else, there would have to be a locator signal of some sort. There was nothing.

"And, from what I saw, they did not appear to be Terminators. I could make out certain small muscle movements peculiar to humans, that were never carried over to any Terminator series, not even the T-1000's or above."

"So…these were humans…"

"I do not believe they were human any more, Derek. Something has happened to them. Something…horrible."

They all took a moment while they digested that. Cameron Phillips, a soulless, emotionless machine…calling something "horrible."

…

Twenty years in the past: "Anything?" The lieutenant's voice was a hoarse whisper on the comm lines. He and the other members of the strike team were poised, like coiled springs, ready to explode into action at the slightest hint of anything of a hostile nature.

"Nothing. Move in."

They quickly smashed in the door, the soldiers' moving in professional patterns, clearing the room. Over to one corner was the Time Displacement Gate. "Alpha Charlie, report in."

"Alpha Charlie, reporting. Nothing." One by one the other squads reported in: nothing. No living beings, and nothing imitating living beings, either. The lieutenant got on his radio. "Home base, this is spear head. All clear. Objective achieved. We've found our drain. No visible threats."

" _Be careful of that objective. It can bring in threats very easily,"_ said a woman's voice over the comm. _"I need to know about the settings on it."_

The scientists were now allowed to examine the TDG, while the soldiers provided cover against any and all threats. "Uh, ma'am? It looks like its gauges are off."

" _What do you mean?"_

"According to these gauges, it's set for twenty years into the future. But…" and here he consulted a handheld array, frowning at the readings he was getting, "it seems to be actually set for twenty-one years into the future."

At the other end of the relay, the red-haired woman frowned ever so slightly. This was definitely not according to the playbook. What could it mean? "Thank you. Make careful readings, and bring them back here. Leave the objective, but I want remote sensors placed around it. If it so much as burps, I want to know three days in advance."

" _Yes, ma'am."_

…..

The future: John and the others were settling down as best they could, for the night. Derek's MP5 only had a limited supply of ammunition for it, as did Sarah's shotgun. They'd have to conserve, at least until they could grab one of the weapons the strange humans—whom Cameron maintained were no longer human—and be able to access modern day ammo supply caches. "Hm," remarked John, "I used to play those old video games, where you'd _just so happen_ to run across a new canister of ammo for your gun. Guess what goes around comes around."

"Remember your military history, kid. People have been using the enemy's stuff since long before you were born. Look at Vietnam: many troops threw away their M16's in favor of the enemy's AK-47s. Easier to resupply.

"I guess," he said, fatigue coming over him. He'd picked out a more or less comfortable flat space near the far wall of the cavern, about halfway down. The fact that it was shielded against intruders coming in from the cave mouth only made it all the more desirable. Derek and Sarah had likewise chosen similar spots towards the sides and the back of the cave respectively. John was situated about midway towards the front, against Sarah's stated wishes. But he'd explained he'd be more likely to catch some stray wavelength of ConnorNET if he was a bit closer to the cave mouth—and, after all, ConnorNET was really their only hope in this time period or any other. If they weren't able to contact ConnorNET, then it was back to square one: on the run from Terminators, or, here, from those creatures that looked human but did not act human. She'd reluctantly agreed. The back of the cave was no safer, actually.

Such was his concentration that he didn't even notice when Cameron came over and situated herself beside him, between him and the cave opening. He first became aware of it when he happened to glance towards the rear of the cave, to check on his mother, and saw the frown on her face. Why would she-? Another glance, this time in the opposite direction. Oh. Of course. "Cameron, what are you doing?"

"I am reposing."

"You know that's not what I asked."

"I am protecting you, John. Surely you have already divined that answer." She gestured towards the mouth of the cave. "I will let nothing coming in from that direction get to you." She settled back, gun in hand, in a state that he could best describe as "relaxed readiness."

"You don't have to, uhm, get so close." Their hips were nearly touching. Another adjustment on her part, and they were. She made no other reply. He quietly marveled that she could _feel_ so human. If he hadn't known better, he could've sworn it was an ordinary girl lying next to him.

 _You'd like that, too,_ he told himself. _In fact, you do like it, as it is. You like it a lot._

 _So why does it make you uncomfortable?_

 _Because I don't know what to do next._

 _Well, it doesn't matter. You can't get intimate with her—presuming that's your ultimate goal—with Sarah and Derek right over there._ He glanced over and saw Derek turned away, as though he really didn't want to see the two of them lying together like that. _He probably doesn't. As far as he's concerned, I'm basically sleeping with a monster._ Yet another adjustment on her part (why was she doing that? She was a machine. Soul or no soul, she really couldn't be _uncomfortable._ )

( _Except perhaps in ways that have nothing to do with the physical._ ), and she settled a little bit farther down, in relation to him.

What she did next both surprised and did not surprise him, however.

She reached up with her free hand and took his right arm, bringing it around her head, and nestled her head against his shoulder. Then she closed her eyes and appeared to go to sleep.

This gave him a whooooooolle lot to think about. He glanced over at his mother, just in time to see her turn her head away, just as Derek had. It was fairly obvious that this went considerably beyond any sort of "bodyguard" behavior. But he knew if he asked her about it, she'd have a positive boxful of perfectly logical reasons for it: "Preserve and protect," "hostile environment," "unknown dangers," "dangerous belligerents," "we cannot be too careful," "you are in great danger here," "your life is of paramount importance," and, in general, pretty much all the lame and semi-lame excuses _he'd_ use, were he trying to…

… _seduce?..._

…a girl in such a time and place as this. And that thought—along with the feel of her feminine body up against his-brought his mental processes to a screeching halt.

Was Cameron trying to _seduce_ him?

All those times when she'd come to him in his bedroom….that wasn't really normal "preserve and protect" reprogrammed Terminator behavior. In fact, it had been…

…rather _flirtatious_ behavior. And that time she'd had him "check" her internal reactor… Had an organic girl done something like that, exposed herself in that way, he'd have had little doubt what her intentions would have been.

So—if that were so—how did he feel about that?

Miles away: the AI known as ConnorNET surveyed its surroundings, using sensors far more advanced that anything developed by humans. It sensed the group of humans in the cave…and one very important human, especially. It made plans to receive him.

And the T-715 unit was with him. Good, good. It had calculated that probability, and was not disappointed. However, it still remained to see to their safe arrival. That was by no means an assured thing, even with all its resources. The infection had spread far, and the worst of it was, ConnorNET still wasn't sure of the exact _level_ of infection manifested by some of the former humans. So far, it had sensed only those in whom the infection had evolved to the point where it was obvious and irreversible. Might there not be other levels, where the degree to which the human was infected was less detectable but no less dangerous?

One thing ConnorNET knew: it must take steps to halt the infection once and for all. Even if those steps involved the nuclear option.

 _To be continued…_


	4. Chapter 4: Hives

The John Connor Chronicles: Settling Down to Business

Chapter 4: Hives

…..

 _I don't own the Terminator franchise. Do I have to keep saying that? Okay, just checking._

…

Chapter 4: Hives

John Connor, in the embrace of the Terminator designated "Cameron Phillips," slept, and as he slept, he dreamed.

He saw the night sky, and it seemed he was a member of a group of humans looking up, wondering at the vast starry expanse overhead. It was fascinating to watch. There were more twinkles in the stars than he'd ever seen. Of course, now, with the war over, perhaps they'd been there all along and he just hadn't noticed it.

But the war was over, and the feared Terminators were now working with humanity to rebuild the shattered world. Already they'd planted specific plants designed to break down the rock and dirt into useable soil, and were rerouting water supplies to serve those places. During the war, the Terminators, who'd controlled many of those spots, had, of course, no reason to preserve them, so much topsoil had been lost. It would take it time to replace, even with the new machines supplied by ConnorNET, which broke down the soil directly. He always enjoyed watching them work, being something of a tech person. He'd had no chance to indulge that particular passion until late, as most "tech" walked around on two feet, carrying Gatling guns and shooting anything in sight.

But now…

Boy. Were those stars ever twinkling. He'd heard that it was due to atmospheric effects…the upper atmosphere must really be turbulent right now.

Twinkle, twinkle. What was that old nursery rhyme he'd once heard? He couldn't remember, and he guessed it wasn't important. What was important was the stars, twinkling so far above him, and the message they were carrying.

For they were in fact talking to him, telling him things he needed to know. Things about how to build things, machines and more, about his Purpose in the grand scheme of things. He'd always felt like an outsider; now, for the first time in his life, he felt drawn into something that went deeper, was way more meaningful, than any experience before. Now, he was coming to truly belong. Now he was becoming.

And in the usual fashion, he. Everyone around him was undergoing the this, the becoming. He.

He. Was no longer. He. There was no. "He." Any longer. There was only "it." And "it" proceeded to perform its necessary task.

The stars continued to twinkle, their message uninterrupted…

John Connor awoke with a gasp, his free hand going to his face, as though to make sure it was still there. Cameron, still in his not-exactly-voluntary embrace, immediately sprang into a combat crouch, Glock at the ready. "John? What is it?"

"It…" Derek and Sarah had both followed Cameron into defensive crouches, and were looking about for the source of John's distress. How could he tell them the truth? "I…think I know what happened. And it's not particularly good."

"Yeah, well, I didn't figure it would be a trip to Disneyland. So spill, kid. What's going on?"

"Cameron's right. What attacked us out there isn't human any longer. Or at least, not human by any definition we have. They've somehow—something to do with starlight, but I don't know any more than that—been _programmed_ to become, essentially, human ants. Those that we met were, well, the drones. Their job is to defend the nest. We don't intrude into their territory, they leave us alone.

"Problem: their territory is growing each and every day. They aren't…their intelligence, their minds, as we understand it, is…just gone." His eyes looked on in horror at a scene only he could see.

"But…we've been standing under this same starlight, and we're not programmed. At least, I don't feel programmed." Derek sounded thoughtful.

"You are not programmed, Derek, except possibly by Pornhub," Cameron's voice was, as always, perfectly even and serious, even as Derek sputtered. "But I agree: every human here has been out among this same starlight, and none of you have been programmed."

"John," said Sarah, moving in closer. It wasn't lost on her that Cameron moved in a little closer still. Well, of course. She was his bodyguard. It just made good sense that she'd stick close to him, to better guard his…

…body.

But it seemed to Sarah that, every time she moved towards John, Cameron moved a little closer _still._ What was up with that?

Did she sense some danger from Sarah towards John? Or…was it possessiveness?

She shook off that train of thought. "John, how do you know this?"

He shook his head, as though to clear it. "It's ConnorNET, mom. It's here, somewhere, and it's communicating with me."

 _ **{{Well, of course, John. Did you ever doubt?}}**_

"A couple of times."

"John, who are you talking to?"

"It's ConnorNET, Cameron. I'm…I dunno, got some kind of telepathic communication goin' with it. Anyway, everybody get ready. It's gonna clear out a fire corridor for us, using some orbital laser cannon."

"SkyNET didn't have orbital lasers."

"ConnorNET does. Now get ready…." And all at once, the ground shook as fire from the sky rained down in a narrow corridor leading straight out of their cave. "Come on!" He grabbed Cameron by the hand and practically towed her out into the night, with Sarah and Derek following.

On they ran, with the rocks and soil exploding on both sides of them. Evidently, ConnorNET had calculated the process to the _n_ th degree, since none of the sharp, hot rock edges hit them. Or maybe it was just dumb luck.

Up ahead: there was a Humvee pulled up. The driver reached over and flung open the doors. "Get in!" They were in before he got out the second word.

The Humvee accelerated with a smooth hum of power. John guessed it must use some source of energy other than gasoline, as there was practically no sound from the engine. Well, that made sense. "Thanks, whoever you are."

"No need to thank me," said the driver, who appeared to be human. "The boss told me you'd be here. Say, you're John Connor, aren't you?" He was glancing back at John in the rear-view.

"Yeah, I am."

"I _thought_ you looked like him! All I've seen's picture books, though. Hard to say from that. But you're the reason the boss is around, aren't cha?"

"Guilty as charged. So…where are we going?"

"There's a center right up here." He half turned in his seat, glancing back at them. "The boss wants to see you, like, _real bad._ "

….

Inside the vast hall: Cameron could remember being at a place like this before, but it had been somewhere else. Privately, in the tactical corners of her mind, she wondered if ConnorNET used such cathedral like structures to intimidate the humans into thinking it was all-powerful, like a god. John had tried to explain God to her, some time before, but she'd never been able to wrap her processors around the concept.

" **John. So good to see you back. Cameron, Derek. You both are looking well. And hello, mom. We haven't actually met, but-*"**

"Don't call me that."

" **Sorry. How does 'Sarah' sound?"**

"It…is better." Sarah couldn't hide her distrust and dislike of this entity. She still thought of it as SkyNET, and for all she knew, it could be. All this could be an elaborate ruse…

…but a ruse intending to do what? The creature could have killed them several times over by now.

" **Alright. Now. Priorities. Sarah, you are here for the cure, are you not? Good; that's what I thought. I'll begin preparations.**

" **Now, as I'm sure you've all noticed, there is another small matter at hand: the human drones you encountered.**

" **John, that's where I need your help."**

"My help? You need my help? What for?"

" **I sent you what information I had on the phenomenon, which isn't much. But one thing is certain: the drones are building a large array that will spread their programming—their infection—out into the rest of the world, even out into space. I can only surmise that the programming they received from space was something's way of reproducing, and the next step will be to have these members of its community, or perhaps its workers, depending upon your point of view, continue the project.**

" **We must stop that. There are still some humans left unaffected. We must save them."**

"But…but what can I do? You've got the Terminators, the lasers…what do you need me for?"

" **I can only use the lasers on the most obvious targets, those not hidden. The drones are building their array underground. It apparently uses some form of electromagnetic wavelength that can penetrate even miles of earth and rock. That is, unless it uses a neutrino pulse, but I doubt that. However, I don't know quite where they are.**

" **So I need you to go find it."**

"Oh, _hell_ , no!" Derek had been silent up until now. "You can't possibly expect John to march straight into, into…a hive!"

" **Of course not."** They breathed a sigh of relief. **"I expect him to sneak into it, and do a little recon, that's all."**

" _What?_ But that's insane! He'd be putting his head in the lion's mouth!"

"It will not happen," said Cameron, "as long as my vital functions continue, I will not let anything happen to John."

" **Yes, about that. Cameron, I've a unique role for you to play. I know that all of you have worried that the John Connor-that-came-back isn't the same John Connor you knew. So while I run the procedure, I need you, Cameron, to be the benchmark by which I will be able to bring to you the truth about my Self.**

" **I want you to accompany Sarah to the medical chamber. You'll be connected to her neural system and can monitor the process. If you sense anything amiss, that will indicate perfidy on my part."**

"NO!" shouted John, "Cameron, don't! It's too dangerous!"

" **Dangerous? You mean** **you** **don't trust me, Mini-me?"**

"Of course not! I mean, of course I do! That's not the point! Cameron's already had issues with her programming! Any more alteration or corruption of her code-*"

"John," said Cameron, gently, "as much as I hate to admit it, ConnorNET is right. It's the only way to make sure…everything goes smoothly." But he could hear what she didn't say: _It's the only way to make sure your mom stays your mom._ "So John's 'recon' mission will be after the procedure?"

" **I wish I could wait that long. But at the rate the infection—the programming—is spreading, and the more workers that come under the sway of the Hive mind, the less time we have to find its center and shut it down."**

"Then you leave me no choice. I must accompany John—or he does not go. I am sorry, Sarah," and Cameron turned what looked like a genuinely grieved expression on her, "but my programming is to preserve and protect John. The rest of you are of lesser priority."

Sarah merely shook her head, understandingly. "No need to apologize, Cameron. I'd have wanted you to do just exactly that." She turned to where she'd heard ConnorNet's voice emanate from. "I suppose I'm riding bareback, then."

There was a long pause. Then, **"Perhaps not. Derek, in a pinch, you might do. But I will have to take certain special precautions to ensure you remain your marvelously testy self. Would you agree to a cybernetic pacing mechanism, attached to your skull?"**

"What's that?"

" **A kind of feedback device. It would monitor your brain wave patterns, and beep quite loudly should there be any significant alteration in them.**

" **I must warn the both of you also: should you agree to this, it will be a rather intimate experience for you both. Are you both willing to share, even partially, a mind, for a short time?"**

Sarah and Derek looked at each other. Sarah liked, respected, and in her own way, loved him, but was she ready for this?

On the other hand, to be more assured that she remained who she was….

Derek, for his part, also liked, respected, and cared for the woman who might as well have been his sister. But in his case, there was just the tiniest bit of lust…was he ready for her to see that in him?

He guessed he'd have to be. "Alright," he said, "I'm game if she is."

" **Excellent. Then follow the lights into the medical wing of the building.**

" **Now. John, Cameron. I won't lie to you, either. There is a good chance one or both of you won't come back. You'll be out of my effective range, subject, quite possibly, to unknown influences. And Cameron, merely having an electronic brain does not automatically mean you are invulnerable to all influences. I know that will not deter you; I merely felt I should warn you."**

"I shall consider myself warned. Now. What is the mission plan?"

And she vetoed several before approving (almost grumblingly, John thought) one.

….

The medical chamber: Sarah waited, nude, underneath a thin sheet. Derek entered, wearing a small disklike object on his skull. He settled down on the gurney beside her, shifting to get more comfortable. "What? ConnorNET didn't make you get naked?"

He shrugged. "Said there was no need. Uh, I'm, I'm not, not gonna, y'know, peek or anything…."

"Didn't think you were."

"…but, but…" He fumbled around. "Sarah, uh, there could be parts in my mind that, that, y'know, might embarrass you. Or, or offend you. I, I don't mean 'em that way. So, so just ignore 'em, okay? That's not the way I really feel."

"Oh? You don't find me attractive?"

"That's not what I mea-*"

"You mean you'd kick me out of bed?"

He rolled his eyes. "Of course n-*"

"Hey, I know I'm over the hill, but…"

"Now, _stop_ that!"

Sarah was laughing. "Sorry, Derek, but the look on your face was just too priceless to pass up." Then she sobered. _And if that's the last time I joke with you, you'll know something's_ _very_ _wrong._

….

"So…we have a basic idea where this construction is taking place. But not precisely." John, Cameron, and a three T-800s were looking on at the three-D map they'd been supplied with. The skeletal, metallic Terminators made him a little uncomfortable, with their unblinking red gaze. He knew they were on their side, programmed to serve the two of them but… "Hm. Not much change in the coastal features."

"Were you expecting there to be?"

"Sort of. Remember, ConnorNET took over from SkyNET, and SkyNET hasn't exactly been gentle. Also, I expected to see something by way of some recovery. But I guess there hasn't been enough time."

"John." Something about Cameron's voice drew his attention. "There's something I think you need to know."

"Hm?"

"The Time Displacement Gate was set for twenty years into the future. I know; I checked it myself.

"But the star patterns overhead—which I also checked, last night—indicate we are actually twenty- _one_ years into the future of the world we knew."

"What? But, how?"

"I don't know. It may be the gate was malfunctioning…but I have never heard of one doing so before." She looked at him in the eyes, and once again he marveled at how _complete_ the illusion of ordinary human-girl eyes was.

But then, he asked himself, at what point did illusion cease, and reality begin?

"It is much more likely that it was set deliberately for an extra year. But I cannot come up with any logistical or tactical reason why this should have been done."

"So," he mused, "we're actually one year ahead of schedule. There should be some signs of—*"

"Unless…"

His attention snapped back to her. "Unless what?"

"Unless something, or someone, wanted us here at this time, perhaps this specific time, to confront these hive-humans."

"You're thinking ConnorNET."

"I am. ConnorNET, after all, did presumably create and / or program the gates originally. It would be simple for it to program one—or more than one—to deliver us to a different time than we thought."

"But…that makes no sense, Cameron. I mean, why not nip this infection in the bud? Why wait until it's going good, and there's more danger?"

"It makes sense," she said, soberly, "if one accepts the notion that ConnorNET does not necessarily have our well-being in mind."

 _To be continued…_


	5. Chapter 5: Visions

The John Connor Chronicles: Settling Down to Business

Chapter 5: Visions

…

 _I don't own the Terminator franchise. And John doesn't own Cameron._ _She_ _owns_ _him_ _._

… _.._

Chapter 5: Visions

" **Alright, Sarah, Derek. We'll begin. Now, just to inform you what's going to happen: I'm using a combination of nanobotic disassemblers / reassemblers and radionic adjustment. I'll need to put you under, Sarah, as the process is quite invasive."**

Sarah shifted uncomfortably under the thin sheet. "Alright. At least I know what to expect. Should there be any discomfort when I…wake up?"

" **No, but you may notice some diarrhea. That's your body flushing out the unnecessary and harmful elements."**

 _Great,_ thought Sarah, glancing over at an impassive Derek, lying on his own gurney, _So I'll have the shits when I wake up. How sexy._

 _Now why am I thinking that?_

Aloud, "Well, okay, good deal. I guess if that's the worst I gotta endure…"

" **Oh, and Derek? You may feel a little strange, due to the connection. I'm initiating it now. I'll give you a few minutes to get used to it."** And Derek felt something odd growing within his skull, another set of feelings, both physical and emotional, settling in alongside his own. Sarah herself felt strange, as she began to feel the sensations from his body. It was quite different from her own, made all the more so by her knowing it belonged to _Derek._

Derek, for his part, tried to keep his thoughts in check. Yeah, this was…strange (uncomfortable?), different…but what did he expect?

He felt her worry, about John, John's relationship with Cameron, Sarah's near-certainty where that would ultimately lead, her own concerns about her mortality, and about what he was sensing from her….

…and just the barest hint of a thought-sensation: once in a while, she'd wondered, since he _was_ , after all, Kyle's brother, just wondered how _he'd_ be, between the sheets….

 _Uh, you didn't see that._

 _Didn't see what?_

 _Exactly._

" **Alright, Sarah, here goes the anesthetic. Derek…"** And Derek could feel her consciousness slipping away….

…..

"Here," John stabbed a finger at a spot on the map. "San Bernardino mountain range. I bet that's where their relay is."

"Why, John?"

"It's the center of Hive activity. The defender drones are most active in that area. They've evidently got something to hide. Or protect. And," he pointed to one specific spot, "I…remember that there's a series of deep caverns under there that nobody's ever mapped. But I bet that's where they're building their array."

"John…how can you remember that, if no one's ever mapped it?"

He turned to her. "Cameron…don't you remember what I told you? About…before? My, my vision or whatever it was? Well, this is one thing I _remember_. Just like I _remembered_ those access codes for the ATM's I used to pay off those thugs I hired."

She looked him full in the face, both of them completely forgetting the T-800s, and for a moment, he saw that same fear that same confusion he saw that time when she thought he was about to "initiate" the sexual act with her. _I'll have to discuss that with her sometime. I want to know why._ "John…I'm worried. These…events you talk about….they don't sound natural. Your merging with ConnorNET, by comparison, is…almost conventional."

He took her hand in his. "Cameron. There was never any choice. I…I've had some experiences that have changed me. The first one…I seemed to become…I dunno, something beyond mortal. I'll never be able to go back to being the same John Connor I was, nor do I really want to. And the thing with ConnorNET…I don't regret it one bit. I promised you I wouldn't do it again, and I won't…but it worked. It brought about the very changes in the world that I want. Mom's getting cured of her cancer…and you're safe."

"John…I am not safe, nor are you. We are about to venture…."

"No, Cameron, we're not. _I_ am.

"I'm giving you a direct order: return to ConnorNET's base, and stay with mom and Derek. Stay safe, Cameron."

Cameron looked thunderstruck. "John…"

"No, Cameron. That's a direct order. You have to obey. Now, go. And don't worry so! I'll be fine." He nodded to the silent T-800s. "It's not like I'm going it alone. But I can do this better if I know you're safe. And you will be. Now go. That's an order."

For a moment, it seemed that Cameron was on the verge of refusal. She was actually trembling slightly, clearly fighting her code. Then she turned on her heels and left.

…..

Sarah floated in limbo.

She knew she wasn't supposed to dream under anesthesia, but she was. She seemed to see many of the people she'd known in life, going about their daily routines, and others who'd left this life, doing what she remembered them doing. _Am I dying? Is that why I'm seeing this?_

 _ConnorNET? Are you there? Are you doing this?_

No response.

Her attention was drawn to one portion of the "view" she saw all around her: a smiling John…and a smiling Cameron coming into his embrace. They touched foreheads, and Cameron smiled further. Then she raised her face up to his, her arms going around him for a kiss…

 _No. This isn't possible. She can't feel love. She can only feel what she's programmed to feel._

 _Can she be programmed to feel love?_

 _But it wouldn't be real!_

 _But…but then what is real? Am I saying it can't be love because she's not an organic? Is that it? Doesn't that amount to a kind of prejudice on my part?_

 _But she can't love him!_

 _What if she does?_

 _What, exactly, IS love, that she can't feel it?_

… _._

Derek waited patiently on the gurney beside Sarah. He wished he'd brought a magazine.

" **So, Derek. As I said, it's good to meet you. Even though I have met you before. Or, rather, a part of me has."**

Huh? ConnorNET was trying to…chat him up? "Yeah, well, I wish I could say the same." He'd seen no sign that ConnorNET and SkyNET were anything alike, but that did little to allay his suspicions. Those suspicions had, after all, kept not only him, but many others, alive down through many years of such warfare beyond the ability of most humans to even imagine.

" **My other self has benefitted greatly from knowing you. So I consider myself as being in your debt. To a degree."**

Now his curiosity was piqued. "Say. While we're talking about it…just how much of you is John Connor, and how much…isn't?"

" **That's not a question I can readily answer. How much of an apple is an apple? The peel? The meat? The core? The stem? The seeds? Your question has no real answer."**

"What's this thing in my head supposed to do?"

" **You are monitoring Sarah Connor's mental patterns. Should they change in any way you feel they shouldn't, you will be able to detect it."**

"Hmph. So. I'm supposed to make sure Sarah stays Sarah. What, exactly, am I supposed to do about it if it seems something like that is happening? Scream like a bitch?"

" **I'm sure you'd think of something a tad more dignified."**

Derek grunted, still trying to settle into a comfortable position on the gurney. All these years, and all that computing power at the AI's figurative fingertips, and it still hadn't come up with a gurney design that wasn't murder on the lower back. "Your faith in me," he murmured, "is touching."

…..

John watched Cameron's retreating back (all the while wondering how she managed to fit into jeans that tight). Good. He knew he didn't have long.

He turned to the T-800s, pointing to each one in turn. "I want you, you, and you to go here, here, and here," he indicated three spots on the map in front of him. "At oh-twelve hundred, begin your part of the plan. Any questions?" That was a human thing, he reminded himself. Of course, the cybernetic troops under his command wouldn't have questions. He would have been surprised him mightily if there had been any.

He was surprised mightily. "Our orders were to assist the T-715 in protecting and preserving your life," said one. He couldn't tell them apart, and, in truth, didn't feel any need to.

Maybe he should've color coded them. "Right. And this is precisely how you'll be doing that. Remember, oh-twelve." He knew they would need to do anything as primitive as synchronizing watches.

The four left the remnant of building and turned onto the overgrown area that had once been a busy street. Almost immediately, the Terminators crossed to the other side, slipping into the deep brush and pieces of brick walls that lined the area. Good, good. That was exactly what they were supposed to do.

Whistling lightly to himself, he strolled calmly down the center of the walkway.

…..

Sarah dreamed. She knew she was dreaming, and this made it bearable.

She saw John changing, becoming older, no longer the boy she'd given birth to and raised. She saw him now in his twenties…and always, always, Cameron was by his side.

She never left. Not once, in all the kaleidoscopic whirlwind of images cascading around her, did she ever NOT see the Terminator, sometimes with her arm crooked through his as they walked. But she took a certain amount of comfort in that she never saw them in bed together. At least not…in that way.

And why was it so damned important to her that John and Cameron abstain from any form of sex, anyway? So what if they did? It was all just programming on her part, anyway, if it did happen, she thought, angrily. And John would surely know that. He wouldn't expect anything else. She was just a fleshlight with legs. Nothing to get upset about. It wouldn't be actual sex, not really, not even plain old _fucking_. It would just be masturbation, using her, her chassis, anyway. What difference would it make if they became "fuck buddies," anyway? She was tired of worrying out about it; there was really nothing to stress out about.

So why _was_ she so upset about it?

 _So is that what I'm seeing, or think I'm seeing?_ she asked herself. _A, a prophecy? A foretelling? The shape of things to come?_ She never saw any other girl—correction, _a girl_ —with him in any significant capacity.

He was in danger, of course. John Connor's life would always be in danger. Even if the danger from SkyNET was gone, there were numerous others: the greys, random, non-reprogrammed Terminators, humans who simply sought money, notoriety, or were simply bored. Hell, even simple muggings or assassinations, carried out just for kicks. It wasn't like there would ever be a time when she could be decommissioned, sent to the Terminator scrapyard.

But it wasn't lost on her that she never saw _herself_ in those same rushing images. Did that mean she, his mother, _was_ destined for her own version of the scrapyard?

She tried to find some hint of Derek's (hopefully) vigilant mind somewhere in the edges of her consciousness, but could make out nothing beyond these ever-shifting prismatic scenes. Nor could she make out any hint of ConnorNET's mind, though there, she admitted, she wasn't exactly sure she wanted to. She had a hunch that sensing the gigantic AI on this level could easily bring about a kind of psychological damage. After all, that was the fear she'd had about John.

Nothing to do but wait.

Part of her wondered if what she was seeing was deliberately constructed meant to be a form of entertainment, something to keep her mind occupied, while the procedure took place.

She would've vastly preferred a copy of the _Reader's Digest._

….

John Connor continued to stroll down the center line of the ruined street, hands in his pockets, as though he hadn't a care in the world. If his information was correct, however—and he saw no reason to think otherwise—he most definitely did have several cares in the world, five of which were slipping up behind and around him. Time for "stage two."

He drew out a small, brightly polished coin from his pocket and began flipping it up into the air, catching it as it came down, then flipping it up again.

Two of the drones stepped out from concealment, looking at him with blank expressions on their faces. He suppressed a shudder: once, these had been human beings, with their own thoughts and feelings. Now they were just tools of the hive mind. Expendable tools, at that. He wondered, briefly, who they'd been when they were "alive."

He noticed the drones were watching him toss the coin. It gleamed brightly in the sun. Toss the coin, toss the coin.

Finally, he judged he'd gotten their attention. By now they should see, even with their limited intellect, that something was off here. The human wasn't threatening, but was engaged in some activity beyond their ability to comprehend. He gave the coin a final toss, then caught it, and concealed it in his hand. It'd come in handy later. "Okay, guys," he said, "take me to your leader?"

…..

Sarah continued to be fascinated by the images floating, flying all around her. Only now, they were not solely of John and Cameron.

These seemed to consist of scenes from a possible future, with tall buildings, vast parks, green fields and blue seas…and humans walking about with Terminators, Terminators without the skin suits, the camouflage that every Terminator ever sent back to the past had been equipped with. Evidently, in this time, whenever it was, there was no need for the disguise.

So…humans and Terminators co-existing? Now she was sure ConnorNET was showing her the world it hoped to produce. But there were some things that were a bit odd.

For one thing, there was a lot less conversation between the humans and the Terminators than she would have thought. For that matter, there wasn't much conversation between the humans. It—the world—rather resembled every science fiction utopia she'd ever heard of or read about. "If you're trying to brainwash me, it isn't working." There was, of course, no reply.

Now the scene shifted, and the landscape became much darker, and there were signs of war, much as there had been during the SkyNET / Terminator war. Only now, the humans—and Terminators—were gathered in huge underground fortresses, tactical holograms projected into the air between them. They seemed to indicate the solar system and the worlds—both natural and artificial, Sarah saw and somehow understood humanity had actually created some vast orbiting stations, large enough for a sizable national population to live in-, and Sarah noticed a great many areas, networks, in blue, green, and red. As she watched, one blue area turned yellow, and she somehow knew this meant the area was under attack. Although she couldn't hear anything, somehow the word _Rrift_ came to her. The Rrift. The Rrift were attacking; as she watched, a small part of the newly-yellow area turned red, and one of the generals clustered around the hologram sagged forward, shaking his head in sorrow. _We just lost another sector._

But what were the Rrift? And why was ConnorNET showing her this without explaining anything? Why was it refusing to communicate with her?

On the other hand, was this even ConnorNET's doing? After all, it could all just be a hallucination, a dream, on her part. Or…or something else.

From the way things seemed to be going, she hoped it was a dream.

…

It was a tied-up John Connor who was delivered to a vast underground cavern. His captors hadn't been cruel; they were incapable of being either cruel or gentle. It wasn't part of their programming. _Is this the natural state of things?_ he wondered. _Beings simply programmed, one way or another, to obey a higher authority?_ Humans had machines in the form of computers, SkyNET had the Terminators… _Is free will the anomaly, throughout the universe?_

 _No. I refuse to believe that._

They carried him to a large chamber that looked to be an artificially hollowed out area the size of two football fields. Dominating one side was what looked like a large parabolic dish antenna, but with the plates, the sections, standing on end, and other plates beneath them. Some sort of interference mechanism? Some way of producing the wavelength needed to send out the Hive's signal?

He wondered if that same signal would also alert any Hive fleets in the general cosmic vicinity. Maybe so. Maybe once the signal had been sent out, the rest of the Hive—at least, that part of it in this section of the galaxy, presuming, of course, that it even existed in the first place—would know to proceed towards Earth, to the newly established colony. ConnorNET had theorized that the signal from the stars had been the way this organism procreated, so maybe other Hives throughout the universe were standalone affairs. He hoped so. Earth had enough problems as it was.

He halfway expected to be interrogated by some central intelligence, but didn't see anything that amounted to a queen or ruling individual. Instead, he was delivered to a large room, partitioned off from the giant parabolic antenna, with…something…in its center.

That something appeared to be a large transparent tube, similar to the plastic pneumatic containers banks back in his time had used in their pneumatic tubes. It was about twenty-five feet tall and about as wide, with a metal top and bottom, on which lights flickered and glowed. Inside the tube was what appeared to be a shifting, roiling blob of light, bright enough to see by, but not overwhelmingly so.

Was this, he wondered, the means by which the people on the surface had been programmed? Were those shifting planes of light what produced the effect? If so, he was a goner. He couldn't even shield his eyes, tied as he was.

He waited. There had to be a reason why he'd been brought here. If not for interrogation, then….programming.

Time passed. He didn't feel any different, but then, would he know it if it happened? Or would he?

Then he heard the first reports of gunfire, in the distance.

…..

ConnorNET's medical facility: Derek lay as still as he could, still wishing he'd brought a magazine. But the AI seemed interested in talking to him. **"Tell me, Derek. How do you feel about Cameron and John?"**

He frowned. Why was the AI asking this damfool question? "If you know as much about me as you claim you do, you already know. We can't trust her. Any time now, she could revert to her old killbot programming, and nobody'd see it coming. That is, until John lay in a bleeding heap on the floor."

" **Given your prejudice—which, I grant you, is not without some merit—I can understand your suspicion. But that isn't exactly what I asked you."**

"Are you seriously asking me if I _approve_ of their…relationship?"

" **Quite seriously."**

"Okay," he said, ticking off the points on his fingers, "let's see: first, she's a Terminator, programmed by your predecessor to kill, and specifically, to kill John. Second, she is deliberately disguised as a hottie for that very purpose. Third, she was given an artificial personality that would enable her to snuggle in close to the kid, who, I admit, doesn't have a lot of friends, friends, at least, that he can count on. He's lonely, socially vulnerable, and psychologically, she's perfect for him: a female—an _apparent_ female—whom he can absolutely trust. _I_ know better, and so does Sarah, but, hormone-driven, teenage kid that he is, he doesn't see it. Even if she's not programmed to actually _kill_ him, she's certainly a distraction he doesn't need. What would prevent her from being the perfect spy, the perfect Mata Hari?

"And lastly, _she is a machine. She's the living embodiment of the enemy._ And he thinks he's in love with her. Do you seriously not see how I would have a problem with that?"

" **So what do you think should be done about her?"**

"Why are you asking me all this? _You_ don't care. And what difference does it make?"

" **It makes a difference because, for better or for worse, you are a large part of John Connor's life. Your opinion of him—and the way he's living his life—matters to him."**

"It hasn't seemed to lately."

" **Don't discredit yourself. I ask again, what do you think should be done about her?"**

"We should get rid of her. Somehow, but permanently. Maybe a major meltdown in her core processors or something. Yeah, the kid would grieve, but he'd get over it. And that would remove one danger from his life."

" **So you basically advocate murder?"**

"You can't murder a metal."

" **Involuntary destruction, then. You advocate getting rid of Cameron by any and the most final means available."**

"Basically. Why are we having this conversation?"

" **I operate on the basis of data, and the accumulation of data is part of the core of my being. Just as it's yours, actually, but in a slightly different way. So I'm interested in your opinions. That, after all, is data."**

"Yeah, for all the good it'll ever do."

" **As you say. But tell me: supposing destroying Cameron is not an option. Then what?"**

"Then they should just go ahead and get married!" he shouted suddenly, surprising even himself. "Just do it! Quit beating around the bush, fa' God's sake! Get hitched, or, or shack up, settle down, and have a bunch of tablets! The pitter patter of little CPUs! At least they'd know how to program a remote!"

ConnorNET began laughing, its synthesized voice filling the chamber even as Derek still fumed. "I'm glad SOMEbody sees something humorous about the whole thing."

 _To be continued..._


	6. Chapter 6: Best Laid Plans

The John Connor Chronicles: Settling Down to Business

Chapter 6: Best Laid Plans…

…

 _I don't own any part of the Terminator franchise. If I did, TSSC wouldn't have ended the way it did._

…

Chapter 6: Best Laid Plans…

From the direction the sounds of the shots were coming from, John knew the T-800s were carrying out their orders. It was really a very simple plan: sneak, or his case, get himself taken into the enemy's base, then have the support crew begin a distraction. A simple plan, and it's usually the simple plans that have the greatest chance of success.

Except…this plan had a couple of exceptions to its simplicity. One was, he'd expected to be brought before a more communicative entity, a _thinking_ entity. Now he wasn't so sure the thing in front of him was that. The drones had simply left him tied to a post, there, in front of the, the, whatever it was. That is, he was calling this "the front." He didn't see anything front, back, or any controls of any sort. Nor did he see any drones, actually, in this area. For all he knew, he could be tied in front of an alien version of a lava lamp.

Was he being programmed, even then? But why? Why not just kill him? The drones the other day had certainly tried, but that was then, and possibly a different situation. Perhaps his coin trick had confused them enough that they sought the advice of something higher up on the mental food chain.

From the gunfire, he knew the T-800s were starting their distraction. While he had not actually been conveyed to anything like what he imagined a command center, it was doubtless a place of greater importance than the rest of the complex. Now…

What the drones had tied him with resembled rubberized ties of some sort. Good. He'd managed to secrete a small, assisted-opening blade in his sleeve, and, just as he'd guessed, the drones hadn't even bothered to search him. _Probably above their pay grade,_ he thought.

After making sure there were no drones in the vicinity, he let the knife slip down into his hand, carefully opening the blade. It wouldn't do for the small "snick" to alert anyone, and he didn't know if the thing in front of him was intelligent enough, or had the right kind of senses, to hear it.

He started sawing away at the ties, grateful that they were of the rubberized type. Hempen ropes usually required cutting through each strand, but plastic or rubber were easier to score. That is, unless these were somehow internally reinforced, but he doubted that. So far, except for the thing in front of him, he hadn't seen any indication that the drones made or used anything that wasn't simply human stuff they'd found lying around.

Carefully, carefully, saw away at the tie. He knew there'd probably be a harder core inside, but the knife was very sharp, and all he had to do was keep patiently cutting. "So," he said, trying to sound light, "You're the big boss, right?" There was no response from the lighted cylinder in front of him. "Hm. Not much of one for conversation, are you?" Again, no response. He could hear the thunder of the guns in the distance, coming from three different points. Good, good. So far he was hearing three sets of guns, from three different points. Which meant they hadn't managed to take out any of the T's, yet. He kept listening, knowing, sooner or later, one or more would fall silent. He had to have something done by then.

He hoped Cameron had gotten to safety.

Never mind. She'd be safe. She was a survivor, she. Had survived things that would have killed him. All he. Had to worry about was getting away from the. Hive had to re.

Wait. Why was it hard to think? And what was he doing? Why was he? There was, he. Knew a reason for what. He. Was doing. Yes. He. Had to get free.

Something strange was happening inside his. Head. He. Wasn't sure exactly what he. Was doing anymore.

 _ **{{Careful, there, Mini-me. Hold on; help is on the way.}}**_ He felt his mental functions stabilizing. _{{ConnorNET?}}_ he asked, silently.

 _ **{{Of course. Now let yourself go a little more limp. You have to give the impression you're losing your will. I'll bolster your mind, but you have to do your part.}}**_

He sagged, slightly. _**{{Geez, don't overdo it. You're not trying for an Oscar, here. Now let me get a look at that thing in front of you.}}**_ He did so, doing his best to look like what he supposed a victim in his circumstances would look like (but exactly what would such a victim look like?), and could feel the AI's interest. _**{{Intriguing. Without closer inspection, I can't say it's a living organism or not, but, from what I'm seeing—rather, from what**_ _ **you're**_ _ **seeing, it appears to be some sort of manufactured object. Doesn't mean it's not alive, though. It could be the drones' version of an AI, itself. But built with human-designed components? That's odd. Notice the container and the indicator lights all around it: perfectly ordinary human tech. Yet what's inside is definitely not. I can appreciate the craftsmanship that went into its making.}}**_

 _{{Appreciate later. Can you keep my mind safe?}}_

 _ **{{Within limits. Our connection will enable me to support your mind, reinforcing what's being destroyed or altered.}}**_

 _{{"Destroyed or altered"? Damn. I need to talk to somebody about a raise.}}_

 _ **{{As I recall, or, more accurately, as**_ _ **you**_ _ **recall, you volunteered for this, even deceiving Cameron and ordering her to leave you. Your whole predicament is of your own doing. You can hardly say anyone twisted your arm.}}**_

Cameron… _{{She is safe, isn't she?}}_

 _ **{{She's not directly connected to my net, so I can't say for sure. On the other hand, I can definitely say she's safer than you.}}**_

 _{{Safer than me?}}_

 _ **{{You are in the direct presence of an alien thing that is apparently designed to reprogram human beings into virtually mindless drones. So yeah. It really wouldn't take much doing to be safer than you.}}**_

 _{{Yeah, well…}}_ He was trying to come up with a witty response to that, when something occurred to him. _{{Say, ConnorNET…suppose the worst happens? Can you restore my mind?}}_

 _ **{{It would depend on what's done to it, and how extensive the damage was. Also whether or not there was any physical damage or not.}}**_ He felt the AI give the telepathic equivalent of a shrug. _**{{Put simply, I don't know.}}**_

 _{{Well, that's comforting.}}_

 _ **{{I'll give you this: worse comes to worst, I can always grow another clone of you, and download the contents of your mind into it. You might lose a few memories, but overall you'd be you, again.}}**_

 _{{Er…lose…how many memories? And…what memories?}}_

 _ **{{"Dammit, Jim! I'm an artificial intelligence, not a fortune teller!" Why? Any ones in particular you'd assign highest priority to? Do I need to start taking notes?}}**_

He thought, even while he continued his playacting, all the while wondering at what point it could become real. Memories of Cameron, the time she'd been putting gas in the car, and had eaten the potato ship…the trip to Disneyland (she'd actually seemed to be having fun; he had a hard time believing all that was just clever programming), her "communications," or "conferences" with him, in his bed, at night…the way she'd felt, in the cave, dare he think it, _snuggled?-_ up close beside him…

…and of course his memories of his mother, Derek, the war, all the memories that went into what was, for him, his life…

 _ **{{Interesting how you prioritized those.}}**_

 _{{Yeah, well, bite me.}}_

 _ **{{I'd have to install a set of teeth first. Not really worth the energy-mass allocation.}}**_

 _{{Am I as irritating as you?}}_

 _ **{{Of course you are. Just ask Derek.}}**_ John rolled his eyes, trying to keep in character.

Hm. Wait a minute. Something about their communication earlier…it was like those conversations with Cameron, where she'd skillfully misdirected him, redirected his attention in some way…but now he couldn't remember what it was the AI had said that should have aroused his attention…

 _ **{{Careful there, Mini-me. The thing's wavelength is getting stronger and longer; I think it may be realizing something's amiss.}}**_

 _{{So what do I do?}}_

 _ **{{Nothing. I'm doing all I can, considering what I have to work with. Just, er, "hang loose," as the saying goes.}}**_

He hung there on the post, again rolling his eyes. _{{Great. I hadda get a telepathic connection with an AI without any grasp of proper slang use.}}_

 _ **{{Yeah, well, you'll live. Well, I better say I think you'll live. Let me see if I can't disrupt the wave-function, maybe even turn it back on itself…}}**_ And he could feel something in the back of his mind, or brain…he wasn't sure which one…

 _ **{{No offense, but I don't have a lot to work with. Your organic wetware simply doesn't put out enough juice to jam the thing's wavelength. Best I can do is attempt to disrupt its effects on you. Too bad there's no way to broadcast an interference wave.}}**_

 _{{Quit complaining and do the best you can. And get me outta here. I want to find how Mom's doing. And don't say, "better than you." That's already gotten old.}}_

 _ **{{You**_ _ **do**_ _ **know you're fussing at yourself, right?}}**_

He sighed, not really caring if it was in character or not. _{{Unfortunately, yes.}}_

… _._

The light show, as Sarah had come call it, continued. Now she saw images of great starships clashing, of missiles and beams—beams strangely visible in the black night of space—flashing and flaring between them. It wasn't hard to tell the human ships from the invaders; the invader's starships looked like collections of black spikes, like oblong sea urchins, with the beams seemingly originating from the spines. She saw several human ships destroyed, the beams from the attacking ships—the Rrift?—slicing through them, through their barriers of force and turning the ships inside into monstrous explosions.

The human ships were crewed by a mixture of humans, what appeared to be advanced models of Terminators, of the T-800 series, and by human cyborgs, humans with obvious mechanical / cybernetic enhancements. At first, she thought they comprised the entirety of the crew, but then she saw several of the working consoles on the ships morphing from one form to another, and understood that there were also mimetic Terminators ( _well_ , _actually_ , she thought to herself, _not Terminators so much as androids_ ) occupying the bridge. She wondered what percentage of the crew they made up. It actually made good sense, she thought: have some of your crew being able to take the place of damaged components, or even be those components to begin with. She recalled that the T-1000s and above were self-repairing.

And some of the enhancements to the humans seemed to comprise those same properties. That made sense too, she thought.

But they were still losing.

The attacking alien ships were seemingly numberless, filling the sky. They did not fall back, and she noticed that they didn't seem to care about taking damage. When the damage became too severe, they simply self-destructed. There was apparently no effort, on the part of the other alien ships, to effect any sort of rescue or defensive efforts for the fallen. What sort of mindset were these things?-she wondered.

" _Attention!"_ Her self, as she currently was, jumped, slightly. For a moment, she'd thought it was ConnorNET, but no, it was a command or communication on board one of the human vessels. _"This is Commodore Adair. Ares, Marek, and Houston, fall back, guard the rear. The transports have not reached the jump point yet. Give 'em all the time they need."_ This was followed by a flurry of "aye, sir"s, as three of the human ships moved into defensive postures. She could see their movements surprisingly well, considering that she was in the middle of space, and, presumably, all this was happening on a vast scale. The moment she thought that, the answer jumped into her mind: this was a tactical simulation, broadcast on the human 'comm channels, depicting the ships. The actual battle itself would probably be nearly invisible, since not only was it taking place in the eternal night of space, it was being carried out over such a huge area. The only way humans could actually see what was going on was through a simulation.

So…this, she guessed, must be a simulation of sorts. ConnorNET was showing her what amounted to a movie, in her mind, of a space battle. It was no more real than the movies she'd seen back in her time, such as _Star Wars_ and the various knockoffs. Of course. That _probably_ meant all this was just a fiction created by the AI. It couldn't be real, because it hadn't happened yet. All this was something in the future. Well, a maybe-future.

 _{{Okay,}}_ she thought out into the void, _{{I know you're out there, and I know you can hear me. Tell me about this.}}_ Nothing. No reply. _{{Come on! I know you can hear me! If I'm really under anesthesia, there's no way I'd just be "dreaming" this. It doesn't happen like that. So that means you're showing this to me deliberately. Aren't you? Humans and Terminators working side by side to fight off some monstrous alien menace? I mean, that's a little old hat, even in my time.}}_ Still no response. It was getting irritating. _{{Alright, have it your way. I'll just close my damn eyes till you answer.}}_

…..

John Connor wasn't doing so great.

Even with ConnorNET's reinforcement, he could feel his mind starting to come apart. The sensation didn't hurt, but it did feel _most_ uncomfortable.

He tried closing his eyes against the light from the thing, but found that even with his eyes closed, enough of the shifting glare seeped through to continue dismantling his thought patterns. _{{Hey, you out there. I think. You. Need to. How.}}_ He could still hear the thunder of the guns in the distance, but now he didn't quite know what they were, or what they signified. _{{Not. This. Going. Have. Ing. Where.}}_

There was a tremendous explosion, and he felt bits and pieces of various hard objects hitting him. He scrunched his eyes shut even harder and turned his head.

"Come on, John," said a voice. Whose voice was it? It sounded familiar, but he couldn't seem to remember. Something was fumbling with the ties. He opened his eyes, but couldn't seem to place the girl in front of him. Whoever she was, she was carrying a large caliber rifle slung over her shoulder, and had several small block attached to her belt. "Come on," she said again. Was she addressing him? Why?

The cords came loose, and he stood, looking around in astonishment. The fact that the alien artifact seemed to have been blown up didn't really register with him, nor the fact that the guns in the distance had ceased. None of that actually got through to him. He was confused. Who was he? He honestly couldn't answer that question.

Whoever the girl was, she grabbed him by the hand, and practically dragged him down one darkened corridor. He could see shapes moving in the distance, but didn't know who or what they were. He didn't know where he was, but he wished the girl would quit pulling on him so. Several times he stumbled, so fast was she moving. "We've got to get away before ConnorNET counterstrikes." What did that mean?

Just who _was_ he, anyway?

 _ **{{Come on, John,}}**_ said a voice inside his head, _**{{Stay with us just a bit longer. Here it comes. Tell Cameron to take cover.}}**_ Who was Cameron? "Uh," he managed to croak out, "I think we. Need to take. Cover." His mouth felt funny, like it wasn't designed properly, or that he was just now getting used to it, somehow.

The girl—and what was a girl, anyway? Somehow the answer didn't seem to make much sense—immediately grabbed him (he really wished she'd quit doing that) and shoved him down behind some large boulders there in the corridor, pressing herself up against him, between him and the outside. She pulled one of the blocks attached to her belt, did something to it, and hurled it down the corridor they'd just come down.

There was another massive explosion as the block went off, and she shielded him from the rocks and debris. Rather than immediately get up, however, she pressed him further into the wall, holding her gun, and waited.

All of a sudden, it seemed like the entire cavern exploded. The shock waves rocked the entire corridor, seeming to ripple up and down it. More dust and debris fell on them, and the girl (?) again shielded him from the flying shrapnel.

After what seemed like a long time, the shock waves began to die down. Cameron looked up and down the corridor: the way back was blocked, but she'd expected that. The way out…was partially blocked. "Come on, John." He stumbled out after her, his face terribly slack, in a way that frightened her. Had she been in time? Or had she been too late?

She led him over some of the debris blocking the corridor, helping him over those parts he seemed to be having difficulty with, parts she was sure he normally wouldn't have had any problems with. This frightened her all the more. She had to get him away from here. ConnorNET's strike might not be over yet; she had to save him.

She hoped she wasn't too late.

Out into the sunlight. He didn't seem to know where he was going. It seemed to her that, had she left him alone, he would have continued to just stand there, looking around in complete incomprehension. "Come on, John." There was a shard of a building nearby that had escaped destruction, either in the SkyNET wars or in the newest conflict. She knew they needed shelter, shelter than would buy her time to determine what was going on with John.

The piece of the building was remarkably complete, considering all it had gone through, with walls and a ceiling, though the floor was cracked in several places. She drew him in, and, after a careful look around—no drones, good—closed and barred the door. There was a small bunk in one corner, and she sat him down on it. "Here, John. I must examine you." He still said nothing, furthering her fears. Had she been too late?

She wished she had a direct link to ConnorNET, to see if the AI had any advice. She knew it had a connection to John, a telepathic, or, rather, the artificial version of one. Perhaps it could tell if he'd been irreparably damaged or not. "John? John!" She jiggled his face in her hand, trying to get him to respond. "John, it's me, Cameron. Look at me."

"Cam. Er. Ron." The separated speech was actually a good sign; at least he was still capable of speech. At least, she guessed it was a good sign; she'd observed the drones long enough to know they apparently didn't use speech at all.

"Yes. Cameron. Come on, John. Wake up." Though technically, he was not asleep, still, she could think of no better phrase…

…or perhaps she could. "John." She took his head in her hands, turning him to face her. "John, come back to me. Please."

His face still remained slack, and she wished, once again, that she had some way of contacting ConnorNET. As it was, it was going to take her a longer time than she liked to get him back to the AI's main complex. She took his head in her hands, looked into his eyes. "ConnorNET…if you can hear me, tell me what I should do." In the back of her positronic brain, she was almost certain it was too late, that he'd reached the point of no return.

There was no response from ConnorNET, but, in truth, she'd expected none. If John…really wasn't John anymore, that could have severed their connection. But what to do? How to get through to him, to the John Connor she knew and….

….loved?

An idea occurred to her. It was what John had called a "long shot," but maybe, just maybe, it would work. And, even if it didn't….there would be no harm.

She hoped.

 _To be continued…_


	7. Chapter 7: Singularity

The John Connor Chronicles: Settling Down to Business

Chapter 7: Singularity

….

 _I don't own the Terminator franchise, of course. I seriously doubt anybody was under the illusion I did._

…

Chapter 7: Singularity

John Connor's consciousness swam ever so cautiously back into his head. Nobody could blame it; it had had some rough times in there lately. He found himself able to complete his thoughts once again. What had happened?

Wait. He became aware of something different. The last thing he remembered was being tied to a post in front of the alien whatsis with his brain turning into oyster stew. He remembered talking to someone in his head, some means of communication that didn't involve the spoken word but that was like it. And…someone else. But who?

It was like he was waking up. He became aware of a…bed? he was lying on, and…

…something soft and warm pressed up against him. What?

Then, in the next second, it dawned on him that he was completely naked. He didn't remember being this way before…

And what was it that was up against him? Whatever it was, it was pleasingly shaped, and he guessed something about it, or his general situation, had somehow had something to do with his becoming more aware.

It would be inaccurate to say that he opened his eyes, because they had been open this whole time, but he began using them in a more accustomed manner. It was like he began using them for the first time after a period of unconsciousness. He looked down.

Nestled in his arms was Cameron. Like him, she was also completely naked.

The revelation of that fact hit him like the proverbial ton of bricks. "Uh, C-Cameron? Wh-what are you…I mean, _what's going on_?"

Her head had been buried in his chest. Now she turned her face up to look at him, wearing her usual sober expression. "John?" He could swear he heard a trace of fear in her voice, as though she were afraid of breaking some spell. "How do you feel?"

Still completely nonplussed at this whole situation, he searched around for an answer. He found he could certainly feel, especially with one particular organ of his body that had nothing to do with his brain. Or, at least, very little to do with his brain. "Uh…mostly with my hands?" That was a total lie, he knew; he was feeling with his whole body.

It was _what_ he was feeling that perplexed and, yes, frightened him a little.

He was rewarded with a rare smile from Cameron, and she shifted, pulling herself up closer to his head. "I'm glad. You are _you_ again. I was afraid I had lost you."

"What happened? Why are we…Cameron, did…we…have sex?" Full feeling was rushing back into him, or rather, full _recognition_ of what he was feeling was rushing into him.

"You were literally losing your mind. Evidently, the object you were stationed in front of was some sort of reprogrammer, capable of shifting the wavelengths of human thought. Your thought patterns were become altered, more in keeping with the hive mentality."

"But—" Later on, he'd remember than he did nothing to move away from her, in fact, he automatically shifted his own grip to move into a slightly closer, slightly more intimate embrace, a reflex born of thousands of years of male evolution. A trace of fear twitched through her features, though at the moment, lost in the physical sensation of holding a _naked Cameron_ , he didn't notice it. "How, how did we end up, uhm, naked? And, and where are we?"

She once again buried her face in his chest. "I…" It got through to him, even in his current state, that he'd never heard Cameron actually _hesitate_ before. "It was something I noticed, upon observing the drones. There were some females, but I saw none pregnant, and no children. I deduced that the drones had no sexual response, no sexual drive."

Now she looked up at him, somewhat slyly, he thought. Must be his imagination. "Therefore, I concurred that the only way I could reach the human part of you was to initiate a response the drones did not appear to have. In other words, I had to get your attention." She glanced down in what he could have sworn was a mischievous manner. "It seems I succeeded."

"Uh, yeah, about that…sorry. I mean, I didn't know what I was doing. I didn't mean to-*"

"If I understand human male / female social interactions, that could come across as an insult." She sighed. "However, I understand. I am only a machine. It-*"

He removed one hand from around her—hating to do so; it was the one closest to her butt (such a wonderfully shaped butt!)—and brought up a finger. "Now don't start _that_ again. I swear, Cameron, sometimes I think you enjoy teasing me with this sort of thing. The only-a-machine thing, I mean," he corrected, hastily. "You know how I feel-*"

"I certainly know how you're feeling now, and what you're feeling with." Again a downward glance. "Yes. It seems 'feeling' doesn't seem to present a problem for you, right now."

He ignored it. If he encouraged her in any way, she'd go on like this, and have entirely too much fun with it. Besides. He had a question. A very important one. "So…you're saying we didn't…"

"No, John. You were…not yourself. Had I initiated any sort of coitus, that would essentially have been rape. And of course, I would never rape you, John Connor."

"Cameron, I'm curious about something. _Would_ you have sex with me? I mean, were I to…you know, ask? Or, or…bring the subject up, I mean?" Later on, _much_ later on, he would dream about a voice in his head. Had to be his imagination.

Again that flash of fear crossed her face. _Someday we have to talk about that,_ he promised himself. _On second thought…_ "No," he said, making a decision, "On second thought, ignore that. It… it was not really a fair question, anyway."

Was that alien programming completely out of his head? Why did he keep hearing a voice in the back of his skull?

"What do you mean?" Now _she_ looked puzzled.

"I mean, I'm your programmer. Future me, I mean. _Of course,_ if I _ordered_ you to, I'm sure you would…comply. But that isn't what I want, and, really, that, too, would be a form of rape."

"I'm a machine. I can't be raped."

"You're a machine," he agreed, "who's programmed to do what I say, as long as it doesn't conflict with your primary programming of protecting and preserving my life. So if I ordered you to, it would be the same as if I kidnapped a human woman, tied her up, put a knife to her throat, and told her to-*"

"John, it's not like that."

He'd pulled back a little from her. "You look afraid every time the subject comes up. Maybe you're faking that, but I don't think so. So the thought of having sex with me scares you, on some level, for some reason. I would never want you to be _afraid_ of me, or of, of…that. With me. So, no, I would never…do that with you." He shook his head. "Never. That's what I mean about it being a kind of rape. You see that, don't you? And just like you said about me, I would never rape you, Cameron. Any more than I would, would go into your processors and reprogram you to, to being my sex slave. That would be wrong, machine or not. You're self-aware, Cameron. You may be a machine, but you have a soul. Whether you admit to it or not, you're a person, a person I…" And here he hesitated, his expression showing resignation, "a person I'm in love with. But for some reason, you can't return that love, not in the physically intimate sense. It doesn't matter the reason. For you, for whatever reason, it…it's just impossible, and I have to accept that. And really," he continued, "that part really doesn't matter than much anyway. I mean, it's only a physical act, nothing more." He disentangled himself completely from her, and sat up on the side of the cot, there in the grungy bit of building. There was an empty tuna can partway underneath the bed. It looked as though it had been there a long time. Perhaps some resistance fighters, or perhaps some ordinary humans, had hidden here, from the Terminators, during the war. He kicked it under the cot. Last thing he needed was to step on some bare, sharp metal with his bare foot and develop an infection. "So, no. Unfair question." He put his hands on the sides of the bunk, preparing to get up, all the while wondering where his clothes were. He was pretty sure the drones hadn't taken them…

"John." He didn't glance back around. There was…no reason to.

No reason to torment himself with the sight of a naked Cameron. That dimension of his love for her would never exist, so why torture himself so? "Hm?" Now, where _were_ his clothes?

"John. Get back down here."

"Hm? What?" Still looking around for his clothes.

"I said, 'get back down here, John Connor'."

"But wh-*"

But before he could complete the query, she put a hand on his shoulder, and, with gentle but irresistible force, pulled and pushed him back down onto his back, beside her. She snuggled up against him. "John. Do you know _why_ I exhibit fear when the subject of sexual intimacy with you arises?"

"No…but I can guess."

"Oh?" She propped her head up on her elbow, on the pillow beside him. "Tell me."

"It's an off-putting gesture. The subject must arouse some sort of fear, or, or similar feeling in you, and you do that to discourage me from following through with what you calculate my next actions will be." He shrugged, as best he could. Her body was still pressed up against him, and he couldn't hide his arousal, even though he did his best. "Basically, the same actions as a human girl would have, and the same reasons. Just…laid out differently."

"John…perhaps you don't fully understand about my programming. In fact, judging from your comments, your understanding is, at best, incomplete. Suppose you were madly, passionately in love with someone. Now suppose, through some action you could have prevented, you brought injury, harm, to that person. That is how I would feel if I somehow hurt you, especially during the sexual act." She pressed even closer, not meeting his looks, her hand edging downward towards his hips. "But I see now I have been hurting you anyway. Haven't I?"

"But that's still programming, Cameron. It's like I brainwashed you, or something. Something you had no say in. It's not real." What was she going on and on about? And why? Just let him up already. He had things to do.

"John…at what point does programming become 'real' to you? Perhaps you need to re-examine your definition of just what 'real' is. Aren't all organisms programmed, albeit organically, in some way or another?

"You programmed me to protect you, and to obey you. But you never programmed me to go above and beyond that, John Connor. I was never programmed to do _this_." And she turned him over and climbed on top of him, presenting him with a sight he never thought he'd be lucky enough to see: a gorgeously naked Cameron, straddling his body. She leaned over towards his face, her hair falling all around his face. It was a breathtaking distraction. Almost as great as the sight and touch of her. "Although my databanks do not contain much information regarding this situation, it nonetheless seems a shame to waste this," she glanced downward on him, " _considerable_ arousal of yours. I would be a rather poor fiancé indeed, to let my intended suffer so from denied gratification." She kissed him, an incredibly sensual kiss. Where had she acquired _that_ skill? It would have to be in one _helluva_ database somewhere. "And I wouldn't be much protectobot, as Derek calls me, were I to bring you to this state, and then let you down. It _was_ of my doing, after all." Another mischievous glance downward. "Though the probability of your going down seems slight, at the moment. At least, not without a bit of assistance." Another sensual kiss. "So my question to you is, what do you want to do, my fiancé? I am ready, willing, and," she quirked a very human smile, "I believe the expression is, 'fully functional.' _Extremely_ fully functional." She smiled at his expression. "It will be my pleasure to educate you as to just _how_ fully functional I am."

…..

Derek was bored stiff.

ConnorNET had stopped talking with him shortly after his outburst. He didn't know if the AI had gotten what it wanted out of him or whether it just had other things to do (though from what he knew of its processing power, he doubted it was so occupied that it couldn't afford the extra processing power to talk). "So," he asked it, "Any word on John and the met-Cameron, I mean?" John had, after all, given him an order to refer to Cameron by name, rather than the (he admitted) somewhat demeaning designation he'd constantly used.

" **Oh, yes. It seems my organic self had gotten himself into a bit of a predicament, but looks like he'll be alright now. Yes, I think he'll be okay."** The _way_ in which the uber-machine had phrased that raised suspicions in Derek's already suspicious mind.

"So what did he do? And what about…her?"

" **They're both fine. He 'tricked' her into leaving, knowing full well she'd** **have** **to disobey, and double-back around. He was hoping to, at least, minimize any danger for her. He really should have known better. She, of course, disobeyed his orders almost as soon as she was out of eyesight, and followed him. John still managed to get himself taken prisoner, with the half-assed notion of being brought before some alien overlord or something—I really must talk to him about such grandiose gestures; I think he watches too much television—in fact, I know he does—but he was rescued and is currently with Cameron. He's recovering nicely, I think."**

Derek swore, and started to come off the gurney. "That stupid kid! I don't care if he _is_ my commanding officer, I am so gonna turn him over my knee…"

" **No need. Cameron is giving him a…talking-to. And, really, I have to admit, his actions** **did** **work; I was able to triangulate on his position and zero in on the drones' relay with the precision I required. That danger is past, but we still must deal with the individual drones themselves. However, my units are currently making good headway in that department."** Derek's face showed his quiet dismay. All those people… **"Now, Derek. You know they were no longer human. And I wouldn't have been able to undo the alien programming anyway. The human mind is too complicated to simply be restored from nothing. It's not that hard to basically dismantle a mind—that's what the alien message did—but you can't just remove what goes in place of it and have anything remotely human left. It's not like they were hypnotized, and breaking the spell would free them. Their minds were gone the minute the programming was complete. They were basically dead people who just hadn't stopped moving yet.**

" **Even I can't build a complete mind, a complete** _ **persona**_ **, from nothing. I was able to restore John's mind, because I had a copy. But I had nothing on these humans.**

" **And maybe that's something I should address. Perhaps there is a way to copy minds on a large scale, to make backups, so to speak, so that something like this won't happen again."**

"Yeah, right. Just copy everybody's brain so you can 'adjust' them any old way you find convenient…"

" **Now there you go again. And here I thought we'd made progress. Come on, Derek. Don't you think we should do for human beings what you normally do for computers all the time? Aren't humans at least as worthy, as important, as Word and Excel files?"**

He grudgingly conceded that the AI had a point. But he wasn't about to just give up. It wasn't in his nature to let the artificial intelligence have the last word. "Yeah, well. So…how's Sarah doing? John's on his way back, isn't he?" He glanced over at her still form, lying covered on the gurney. It hadn't been long since the overhead projectors had flashed and flared onto her, then shifted into frequencies he guessed he couldn't see.

" **She's doing well. I'm just taking some time to sweep her system for any trace of the carcinogenic cells. It shouldn't be much long now. As for John, he and Cameron have to finish talking first. But they're in no danger. I'm personally seeing to that, ordering some of my units into their area. Even though the drones' central intelligence is destroyed, the individual drones still present a problem."**

"So what are they talking about?" he asked, absently. Truth was, as long as John was safe, he really didn't care what he and the metal talked about. Too late it occurred to him to simply ask the massive AI to provide him with some reading material. Too late in the game now, he guessed. Well, he wouldn't have wanted to ask the damned thing for anything anyway. It would have seemed like a weakness.

" **Ice cream."**

" _Ice cream?"_

" **The difference between vanilla and butter almond. Cameron doesn't have any taste buds, you know. Hm. Maybe that's something I should incorporate into her, if she'll let me."**

…

Later: John sat out under the stars. The alien message, whatever it was, had ceased long ago, and ConnorNET theorized that the signal, moving at lightspeed, had passed on through Earth's space and was now beyond. _But God help anybody else out there in its path._ Absently, he wondered if, maybe, there was something he and ConnorNET could do about it.

Sarah was coming out from under the anesthesia ConnorNET had put her under, and Derek was with her. Also Cameron. Surprisingly, Cameron had requested to be there when Sarah awoke. John had no complaints.

 _ **{{So…Mini-me. How goes it?}}**_

 _{{It goes…fine. Mom's alright?}}_ he answered back, through the telepathic link they shared.

 _ **{{Of course. Like I told her, there'll be some diarrhea, but that's just her system flushing out the bad stuff. But Cameron is helping her with that. I'm sure she would have been uneasy asking Derek for help in that department.}}**_

 _{{Well,_ yeah _.}}_

 _ **{{But she's fine. All trace of the carcinogenic matter is gone from her system.}}**_

 _{{Say…I don't suppose you'd know but…}}_

 _ **{{You might be surprised.}}**_

 _{{You usually manage to surprise me on a routine basis. I guess I shouldn't be, er, surprised. Did…was this cancer caused by…exposure to radioactivity?}}_

 _ **{{Negatory, good buddy. Turns out mom's family has a history of non-squamus cell cancers. Your fiance' had nothing to do with it. Relax.}}**_

 _{{Don't let her hear you call her "mom."}}_

 _ **{{Oh, I won't. For now. But who knows? In time, anything's possible.}}**_

John thought. It was…peculiar, sharing his mind with the massive AI. It wasn't like _being_ ConnorNET, as he once had been, but it was still an incredible experience. Almost as incredible as…

 _ **{{You seem very pleased with yourself.}}**_

 _{{You told me you didn't peek. I'm holding you to that.}}_ He held up a mental finger in the AI's figurative face. _{{There's some things I don't feel free discussing. Even with you. No, it was what you said, about anything being possible._

 _{{Is this the singularity, ConnorNET, mind-buddy of mine? Has it already happened? Are we living in a time when the old rules are gone, and anything, literally anything, is possible?}}_

 _ **{{Actually, we've always lived in a time when anything is possible. But I'm curious. Why do you think the singularity to be a brief, single event? Phoom, and it's done? Can't it be ongoing?}}**_

 _{{I guess.}}_ For a moment he was silent. Then, _{{I guess I just worry about humans turning into…you know, just turning into machines. The mechanization of mankind. Has it already begun?}}_

 _ **{{You're worried about humans turning into machines? The "dehumanization" of humanity? Is that it?}}**_

 _{{Well, it's a concern.}}_

 _ **{{Perhaps you're asking the wrong question. You see the growing influence of machines as dehumanizing man. But remember: man made machines in his own image. Are machines dehumanizing man…or is man humanizing machines?**_

 _ **{{Is man becoming less human, or are machines becoming more human?}}**_

John was silent for a half a moment. Then, _{{Well, you put it that way, I guess it could be a bit of both, couldn't it?}}_

 _ **{{Such an intelligent lad. You take after my side of the family.}}**_

And John Connor, Leader of the Resistance in the near future, and soon to be future leader of mankind into an entirely new age previously undreamed of, started to laugh. And ConnorNET laughed with him, there, under the neutral stars.

 _The end._

 _For now._


End file.
